


Wander

by JamtheDingus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Drowning, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gunshot Wounds, Heartfelt Reunions, Hunk (Voltron)-centric, Implied/Referenced Sex, Keith's Inner Monologue of Hunk's Arms, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Lance/Shiro (Voltron), Mutual Pining, Near Death Experiences, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pirates, Romance, Slow Burn, almost, i swear to god im trying my hardest to make that a legitimate tag, imagine disney's potc mixed with Actual piracy and then whatever else i wanted, my writing gets a little prose-y near the end, not as historically accurate as some might hope, this is a romance if i've never written one i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-01-17 10:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 63,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12364170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamtheDingus/pseuds/JamtheDingus
Summary: It all started on a tiny little island in the middle of nowhere. Hunk was used to routine, of having a set schedule each and every day with little variation unless he actively sought it out. Ever since his parents had gone off to travel, and he'd lost his friend, Lance, to the sea— he had been alone.All it took was accidentally stumbling upon a pirate ship to change his entire life. For better or worse, as the saying goes.---There was more here for him, in terms of people and excitement, than whatever was waiting for him back on the island.He squared his shoulders, folding his hands across his belly as he came to his decision; one brasher than he'd ever had before."I'd like to stay."





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that the rating (Currently T for Teen) may not be accurate for your circumstances. If someone shows up in this story that you're uncomfortable with, either b/c it wasn't properly tagged for or because of your age, please tell me and I will try to fix it for future readers. Please don't force yourself to read this if it isn't your cup of tea, either! <3 
> 
> This story WILL have violence, injuries (not describe in vivid detail), and general pirate-y activities. But like.... disney pirates. Angry shouting and people getting stabbed. 
> 
> As of the posting of this first chapter, my word count is about 40k? So I have no clue how long this story is gonna end up being, but I hope you'll enjoy the ride! 
> 
> Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!!

 

∾∾∾∾∾∾

 

Beams of sunlight parted through the clouds, kissing the earth with the warm rays. Anyone out that morning would soon find their necks scorched, if it happened to be uncovered. Briny air- thoroughly mixed with salt and water- filtered throughout the pier; a staple to those who lived on the island. It kept them awake and alert as they went about their day.

This town was a small one. All you needed was just over an hour to walk from one end to the other, and that's including the time it would take if you stopped at every stall along the way. There were actually quite a few this time of day, too. Just after the first fishing bout, where the seafood was fresh and still imbued with an oceanic smell.

It was this part of the day that was Hunk's favorite. He wasn't the _best_ at fishing, but he still went out with the rest of the town early in the morning, just as the sun lifted across the foggy horizon, thick with dew and sea foam. It was calming, despite the dozens of denizens that crowded onto boats and shoved off for an early morning catch, whether it was just for breakfast or to sell throughout the day.

Hunk was the former type, always aiming for that perfect, fresh salmon to slice up and serve for the first meal of the day. The golden pink flesh always gave him energy that stuck with him throughout the day, no matter what came his way. Mixing it with some fresh veggies in a salad, and topping it with a hard-boiled egg? Absolutely divine.

That was what he'd planned on having for breakfast the night prior. He salivated about it as he drifted off to sleep, actually.

Unfortunately, Mother Nature had different plans for him, by the looks of the storm that was fermenting near the coast. The clouds grew grey and lumpy, overflowing with angry raindrops that were ready to pelt the island. It would probably be the worst of the year.

Hunk awoke to the harsh rain banging against the glass of his windows, threatening to burst through and slice him with sharp winds.

After shaking off his sleep and slipping into some houseshoes, he began to tack up his usual method of protection from the angry nature. A plastic sheet on each window, in case they broke, secured with a few nails hammered into place. He'd need to repair the holes later on.

That was the least of his worries, though. His roof was old and in desperate need of a repair that he'd put off since the last autumn. Now, it was leaking cold water all across his home, and he didn't have enough bowls to catch the water that sprinkled across his _bed_ , let alone the entire house.

He heaved a heavy sigh and began to lay out every blanket he owned to suck up the water, choosing to cover his favorite, plush loveseat first and foremost. Out of everything he owned, he'd hate to throw it because of water damage.

In the end, he didn't have enough blankets to cover the rest of his kitchen, but that would be fine. The tile would just need to be wiped down and dried to fight against mildew. His carpet, on the other hand, would mold even if someone sneezed on it. _That_ he covered liberally, and added a few more plastic sheets, just to err on the side of caution.

Hours later, the sun peaked through the clouds to gaze down upon the damage that had rained upon them. The town took that as their collective cue to lay out their moistened belongings, including their own bodies. Everything was laid out to air dry under the sun's kind heat, and soon Hunk could hear the sound of an impromptu party as his neighbors shared food and brought their children over to play in their backyards, while they waited for their homes to dry.

Hunk tossed his blankets onto the back porch, shaking and wringing out the water as best he could with just his bare hands. They lined the wooden handrails until there was no room left, and Hunk laid the rest across his fence.

It always grew awfully humid in his home after every rain, so he left all of his (thankfully unbroken) windows cracked open, along with both his front and back door.

Once all of the blankets were laid out, and the buckets and bowls had been emptied of their pools of rain, Hunk stretched his arms up into the sky until his back cracked.

It would be an arduous process to clean his house as he usually did after a heavy rain. Today, of all days, he was feeling particularly lazy, though.

So, instead of doing the responsible thing that was to clean his entire home top to bottom and sweep out the sand and salt that had built up, he decided that he'd take a walk along the beach instead. It would give him ample time to relax and take in the day while he waited for the walls to dry, anyway.

The air seemed to be calling him, that morning. It never did that before.

So, he tugged on his favorite pair of overalls, completely restitched sometime in their life and patched up with completely different fabrics in some places, as well as a nice straw hat he'd never worn before. He grabbed a picnic basket, the one with a squeaky hinge just because he liked the way it sounded, and set out for the sea.

Along the path, he stopped to buy a few snacks for the short, sudden trip. A loaf of soft, white bread was purchased from his next-door neighbors, who threw in an extra one for free just because they thought he was cute. Fluffy goat cheese was added to the basket, which came from the family just down the road. Around the corner from them, he bought a few bowls of blueberries and mangoes from the old lady who lived near the dried-out riverbed. For her, he added in a few extra coins while she was distracted with choosing the ripest fruit.

His basket hardly ended up being filled to the brim with the treats, but each would be a nice snack under the noon-time sun as he sat atop the nearby hill. There was just something about being closer to the sky that made food taste better, in Hunk's opinion.

With one last adjustment to his wide-brimmed hat, he began the climb up the barely there path, eyes to the sky.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

And he was lost. Which was _something_ , considering that the hill he'd been climbing was the highest point of the entire village. But, somehow, he'd taken a turn down the wrong path and ended up at the entrance of a cave that he hadn't even known existed.

The opening loomed above him, obscured by a curtain of green vines that danced in the breeze, startling him as it brushed across his face as if trying to pull him in. Hunk took a hesitant step forward.

It probably wouldn't hurt to explore, right? His house would take _hours_ to dry, so he had no reason to rush.

A feeling in the pit of his stomach made his spine tingle. Not a bad one, necessarily, but it had a pump of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he stepped in, one sandal at a time.

Which made him laugh because- whose heart started racing just because they stepped in a cave? His, apparently.

His eyes adjusted to the darker shadows of the cave, and the scenery that became revealed to him stole his breath away. From the outside, the cave seemed to be a long, narrow hall that looked taller than it was narrow. Instead, it had parted to an open, swirling path that curved around the walls of a pool of water. Starry blue patterns reflected off of the water and onto the mossy rocks, painting his skin with the turquoise colors. He'd accidentally stumbled upon a cove, then.

The familiar sound of water crashing against itself drew his eyes out to the ocean. The hill had a piece cut out of it, like a half-eaten cake, and gave way to the wide, open expanse that was the sea.

Gentle waves lapped at the sand, and Hunk's eyes followed the path it left, struck with the sudden urge to stick his toes in the clear waters. So began his trudge down. He was careful to hug the wall as he followed the ramp lower, just in case the moss was slippery, and some sort of insect chirped at him in encouragement. The sound echoed through the cavern, spreading electricity across his skin.

As he reached the bottom, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. Salt rubbed at his nose, and a peaceful mood settled over him. He liked it here.

His feet pressed into the clear-blue, and a few tiny fish parted through the water as if he'd personally offended them. A smile grew on his face as he followed their trail, only to come crashing down as his eyes landed on a ship.

A _pirate_ ship. A shattered bowsprit stared him in the face from across the way; a mermaid's body bashed inwards. An arm had fallen off and laid pitifully in the sand, already half-buried from the impact. Her face was nearly gone, embedded in the wall of the cove, and her tail, which curved around half of the boat like a mother's embrace, was cracked like lightning.

All at once, his mood soured, and that peaceful feeling left him as quick as a dragonfly's wings could flap. The wooden hull creaked under the weight of the crew, and Hunk's eyes were once again drawn to the broken off hand of the mermaid. Her fingers pointed at him- pointed straight _through_ him; an ominous warning of the troubles yet to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter two is already up, so don't forget to check that out, as well! <3


	2. II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE CHAPTER TWO
> 
> i couldn't resist, since these are the shortest chapters of the entire thing so far alsjhdsaljh. PLUS im just too excited to finally be able to post this.

Keith groaned as he pulled himself up from the deck, shooing away the crewmates that tried to help him up. "Damages?" He dusted splintered woodchips from his sleeves.

A nearby rigger offered him back his gun, which Keith took gratefully, checking the powder.

Wet. Ugh.

"Many, ser. We haven't gotten a full report back. But we didn't suffer many casualties."

Keith sighed, raking his hand across his face as he kicked away some stray plywood to pick up his hat. "Good to hear. Where's the captain?"

"On deck and already trying to get us to sail again. You two are more alike than I thought." Lance grinned, smoothing out the tails of his jacket. He looked no worse for wear than Keith did, even though he'd probably been flung halfway across the deck upon impact. Keith ignored him for the time being, climbing the stairs to the top deck. Already, new sea snails claimed their homes in the corners of the wood.

Lance huffed as he followed after him, fussing the entire way. "If it wasn't for me, we would've been swept into the middle of this entire beach."

Which was true, to be fair. Keith grunted, and Lance rolled his eyes. "Ingrate."

Keith sneered, stopping at the top step to round on him. "Cabin boy."

" _Enough_ of that." And there was the captain, quickly cutting between the two to keep the peace. "We need you both not at each other's jugulars to get our Lady sailing again. Anything to report?"

As he spoke he wrung out about a gallon of seawater from the front of his hair, a contrasting white to the stark black of his gloves.

"Nothing, capt—."

"Aye, aye sir!" Lance saluted, grin back on his face. "Unfortunately, I don't think we'll be fighting any more big battles until we restock our ammunition and our gunpowder. Most of _that_ was soaked through even before our crash."

As he listed, he counted off on his fingers. "And we're out of food, almost. Which isn't really my area of expertise, but I'd noticed this morning."

"We'll have to plan a trip to the nearby town, then. See if they have anything we need."

Lance snickered under his breath. " _Sea_."

Keith couldn't help jabbing him with the point of his elbow, which resulted in something of a slap fight until Shiro cleared his throat, clapping for their attention.

"Lance, take two or three others and try to find some supplies in town.”

"Aye, cap'n!" With one last salute, he was gone before they could even blink. Knowing him, he'd be back in a few hours with more than they could even need, and maybe a few new hands to work the sails.

"Keith, help me run an inventory of damages?" At his nod, Shiro led his sailing master to the bow of the ship.

The complete front was smashed in, as if trying to merge with the cave walls. It would probably take days to repair properly, and even then it wouldn't be as aesthetically pleasing as before.

Oh, well.

Shiro flicked a few splinters from the railing. "Looks like we'll have to replace ol' Lady."

"I never liked her anyway." Keith said, peering over to regard the poor mermaid. Her wood had long since lost its varnish, and as such was always chipping no matter if they sailed on raging seas or calm rivers. She'd always creeped Keith out, if he was being honest. It wasn't like he could even see the damn thing from where he was usually stationed behind the wheel, but Shiro liked to sit on the jackstaff (broken long before and replaced with a larger stump) and 'keep her company'.

Shiro wiped an invisible tear from his eye. "She will be dearly missed. We'll have to commission another."

Keith didn't bother to respond to that, instead choosing to examine his wheel. Half of the rungs were broken, which would severely hamper his control when he couldn't grab where he needed for sharp turns, but he would have to make do by hammering something in when he had the chance.

Who knew _how_ the rudders looked with how bad their crash was. He groaned at that thought, _this_ close to bashing his head against the mast.

Shiro took sympathy and ruffled Keith's hair, nearly knocking his hat off. "Why don't you take a walk? You look tense."

"I wrecked the ship in a tiny ass cave. Who wouldn't be?" He grumbled, though he let himself be pushed towards the ladder off the boat.

"Just go relax for a bit, and I'll make a list of what we need to do."

"You _are_ the captain." Keith teased, mock saluting. "I'll check the perimeter. Heavens above know we don't need law enforcement out here, arresting all of us."

That earned him a wry smile, which he responded with a cheeky grin of his own before his head disappeared behind the rails. "Be back soon."

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Oh _geeze_ that was a ship. A _giant_ pirate ship, probably coming to wipe out his entire town for rum and money.

Hunk had to smack himself on the cheeks to calm down. He'd have to go back and warn the constable. There was probably little they could do against an entire, armed pirate ship, but Hunk knew all able-bodied men and women of his beloved village would be willing to die for their homes.

With a ragged inhale, he crawled from his hiding spot behind a large rock and began to tip-toe back the way he came, basket forgotten in the sand.

If he hurried, he might even beat the small band he saw heading around the coast. It would take them atleast a half hour to reach the town, but he was sure his people would be able to take down three men. Easy peasy.

He got one foot on the incline back to safety when there was the soft _'click'_ of a gun cocking, a noise which had his blood freezing in their veins.

"One more step and I shoot your heart out." Cool metal pressed into the denim of his overalls from behind, and he swore he would keel over right then, before his attacker even put his finger on the trigger.

He whimpered, quickly raising his hands above his head. "I don't want any trouble."

"Neither do I." A man about a head shorter than Hunk stepped into his vision, shoving the barrel of a pistol right under his chin. "Against the wall."

"I... I don't have any money." Hunk couldn't help but stutter, tripping over himself as he rushed to do as the pirate said. "Honest."

The pirate huffed at that. " _Nobody's_ honest, kid."

Hunk really wasn't sure whether he wanted to risk his life arguing against that, so he shut up. Instead, he stuffed his back as close to the wall as he could get, praying that the moss stains would come out easily.

The gun stayed a constant against his neck as his body was patted over, presumably for weapons of some sort. If he swallowed too heavily, it pressed even tighter against his esophagus, and he was absolutely terrified to even blink.

Obviously, nothing was found on his person that even came close to being a weapon. Maybe the butter knife he'd stashed in his picnic basket, but that was long forgotten in his mind and probably being eaten by hermit crabs right at that moment.

Still, the gun stayed aimed at him as the pirate backed off.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Uh, I... was just exploring. L-looking for a place to eat." He inwardly cringed at the way his voice trembled.

An eyebrow quirked up (with it came the gun), and Hunk prayed that his reason wasn't enough to warrant a bullet to the chest.

"A hell of a place to just stumble upon."

"Yeah..." Hunk laughed frightfully. "I'm, uh... so sorry to disturb you and your... pirateness? I _really_ don't want trouble, and if you let me I'll just... run on home and we can forget this ever happened, yeah?" As he spoke, he slowly side-stepped away from the weapon.

This, however, was taken as a threat, as he soon found himself tackled to the ground and shoved face first into the sand. As beautiful as it may have been, it tasted absolutely dreadful.

"I don't think so." Said the voice above him. "You're coming with me until I know what you're _really_ after." A rope was trussed up around his wrists behind his back— seriously who just kept random rope on their person at all times?!— and he was dragged across the dirt, back towards the shore. "We'll see what my captain has to say about you."

Hunk kicked his legs, struggling the entire way. "Listen, dude really! I don't have anything valuable at all— and we're a super small town! Our taxes could probably fill up like, one room in your entire boat. You're not gonna get anything valuable from us."

Keith scoffed at that. "Just shut up, will you?" It was enough trouble trying to drag such a heavy guy already, but him pleading for his life the entire way was downright irritating.

He paused halfway to the boat to catch his breath, tightening his hold on the rope lead.

Well.

It was probably now or never.

Hunk tugged back as hard as he could, bruising his wrists in the process, and used that momentum to roll forward and (miraculously) land on his feet. Keith was tugged along with the rope, face-planting directly in the sand. That gave Hunk the few precious seconds he needed to run for his literal life back the way he came.

All he had to do was disappear behind the curve and he'd be _home free_.

It was, however, very unfortunate for him that it was Keith pointing the gun at him and not, for instance, Lance. Or Shiro, even.

No, unfortunately he got the worst shot of the entire band of pirates.

If he'd known that, perhaps he'd have been a bit more cautious.

Keith shut one eye as he aimed. He didn't want to _kill_ the guy. Just... maim him a little, to show he meant business. The shin, then, would be best to get him to stop.

The resulting gunshot echoed throughout the entire clearing, and for a moment Hunk thought he'd gotten clear of the bullet.

That is, until, a searing pain flared up on his lower half, almost as if his legs had caught on fire where he stood. He toppled over, head first, and rolled back down the way he came.

"Shit!" He heard the pirate curse— and then other voices yelling with him. Hunk tried to roll over, to figure out where exactly he'd gotten shot, but his hands shook so violently in their ties that he couldn't get a real feel. All he succeeded in doing was smearing blood across the back of his overalls. His _favorite_ overalls.

Ah, hell.

He passed out.


	3. III.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keith is.... pretty damn abrasive at first, but i swear his heart is in the right place! and he gets a lot better as the series goes on.... i swear i love my red son c': i swear this is a romance fic............
> 
> also! shiro is a little OOC in this story, i think? he's one of the hardest characters for me to write, tbh... but i hope that you all can atleast vaguely see where i'm coming from trying to write him *praying hands emoji*
> 
>  
> 
> In case you didn't notice in the tags (b/c i know a wall of text is difficult to read asdhald): this story Does feature **shance (shiro/lance)** and this chapter specifically has them like.... Kissin' n stuff ///// LMAO if that makes you uncomfortable, i promise it won't hurt my feelings if u drop this story c':
> 
> on with the show!

Alright. He'd managed to drag the village boy all the way back down the way they came, plus the extra feet to the ship. Which, to be honest, was much easier without him talking and kicking the entire way. He should shoot people more often.

Actually— scratch that. Hunk was kind of bleeding a lot.

Above his head, the commotion of the crew crescendoed as they called for the captain. Keith had to hold in his heavy sigh. He'd be getting a hell of a scolding for sure. Even more if the kid ended up dying on him.

With a loud grunt, he hefted the unconscious body over his shoulder and climbed one rung at a time, both to not drop Hunk and also to put off his reprimanding for as long as possible.

As soon as he'd made it to the top, though, he came face-to-face with an exasperated Shiro. His arms were stiffly crossed, and he was doing that thing where he tapped his finger up and down so that the jewelry adorning his fingers clacked together like a death toll. Keith really hated when he did that.

"Keith—" Shiro interrupted himself with a sigh. Instead of continuing, he helped to lift Hunk over the side and began to carry him to the medic himself.

Pidge, who'd apparently come from her hidey-hole because of all of the commotion, shook her head at him.

"'Shooting civilians is so unlike you'." She said, an almost perfect imitation of Shiro. Keith shooed her away, though she didn't mind his sour look one bit, and he began to stalk after their leader.

Pidge snapped her fingers, dispersing the crowd that had gathered with a few choice orders, but was quick to catch up.

"Did you kill him?"

"No."

Pidge hummed. "He was bleeding a lot."

"That'll happen when you shoot someone." Keith said, passing his gun to Pidge. She turned her nose up at it, but tucked it away in her back pocket nonetheless. It was a well known fact that Keith was much more proficient with swords and sabers than guns.

"Well, what happened even?"

Keith sighed heavily. "You're just gonna listen in with Shiro anyway."

Which was true, she'd give him that. She offered him a shrug and snagged a nearby barrel to sit on as they encroached upon the doctor's room.

Pidge busied herself by rolling and unrolling a map, idly running her fingers across the age-old creases in the parchment as they listened to the mumbled voices of the captain and medic through the thick wooden door.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Nearly an hour later, the two found themselves in the quarters usually withheld for their battle planning— the stateroom. Probably the most secure area of their entire ship. In the exact center of the room was an ellipse-shaped table, reserved for only those Shiro deemed fit.

Keith sat in his usual spot, to the right of the captain's chair. Pidge had easily stolen the left side, sitting on top of the table with her feet in her seat as she waited for Shiro to begin his spiel.

"Keith... What happened out there? It's so unlike you to shoot civilians."

At that Pidge cheekily grinned, unnoticed by their irate captain.

"You're just lucky you missed anything major, or else we would have had an even worse problem." Shiro all but collapsed into his chair, sternly turning to face Keith. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking he could have been a spy."

Pidge stifled a laugh at that. The two of them turned to her, each with a raised brow. "The guy probably couldn't hurt a fly if he _sat_ on it, he looked so soft."

Shiro grimaced, though the edges of his mouth couldn't help but twinge upwards.

"What?"

He buried his face in his palms, full on laughing. "Keith, you... are incredible." He snickered, leaning back in his seat to toss his legs on the table.

"What did I do?"

"I— mm... I don't think our injured friend will be sitting on _anything_ for a while."

It took a minute for what he was saying to sink in completely.

Keith smacked his hand against his forehead. "I was aiming for his legs."

Pidge gave him a cheeky grin, laughing harder than the situation deserved. "You were pretty close."

He tilted his head back and, for the umpteenth time that day, heavily sighed.

"Atleast it wasn't worse." Shiro added, standing to pour them each a cup of brandy.

"Yeah, you could have shot him right between the cheeks."

" _Pidge_." Shiro admonished, sliding her a glass. He took a short sip for himself, walking towards the poor, embarrassed navigator to pass him his drink. "Keith, I expect you to take responsibility for this... _mishap_."

"Yes, sir." He mumbled into his cup.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Hunk awoke hours later to an unfamiliar ceiling and a burning pain in his right buttcheek.

Dozens of feet ran across the deck above him, echoing through the thick oak wood. It made up most of what he could hear, other than the soft crashing waves that were always a constant in the background.

He rolled out of the cot, hanging onto the wall as he tried to walk on his wounded side.

"Ow, ow _ow_..." He whined, knocking over the nightstand as he stumbled. "Whoops."

The rattling of the doorknob was the only warning he got before someone burst in to the room.  And, of course, it was the pirate who shot him. He wearily shrunk back against the wall, carefully balancing on one foot as said pirate stepped further into the room.

"You shouldn't be up." He was admonished, but Keith didn't advance on him any further. Instead, he pulled a chair up to the cot he'd recently abandoned and took a seat. In one hand was a glass of some sort of deep red, and for one silly moment, Hunk was sure it was the blood of his enemies.

Keith noticed him staring, and placatingly lifted the glass. "Thirsty?"

"Ah, uh... No thanks." He stayed exactly where he was against the wall, and it took all he had not to noticeably search the other for his gun. "You're not gonna shoot me again, are you?"

He received a deadpan look in response. "No. Come sit down."

"I'm much more comfortable standing, I think..." Hunk said, actively ignoring the cramp he was starting to get in his lower calf.

Keith sighed heavily, but chose not to push the issue. Instead, he got comfortable in his own seat and just _stared_.

Hunk stayed where he was for a few minutes longer, until he absolutely had to take the weight off of his other leg. Then, he took to pressing his (uninjured) side against the nightstand, instead of sitting closer to the pirate.

He cleared his throat, doing his best to quell the shaking of his hands by stuffing them between his legs. "So, um..." He couldn't bring himself to look the other in the eye. "Am I your prisoner, now?"

Keith had to roll that around in his thoughts for a while before he came up with a good enough response, it seemed.

"I'm not sure."

"You're _not sure_." Hunk incredulously repeated. "You shot me— _on the butt_ — not to take me as a prisoner, but just to shoot someone's butt?"

Keith at least had the decency to look sorrowful, and maybe just a smidge embarrassed. "I was aiming for your thigh."

Sweet skies in heaven.

"Well, um... if I'm not a prisoner, I'm just gonna..." Hunk began to slide towards the door.

"You can't leave." Keith said, standing so fast that he spilled a few drops of brandy. "I still don't know your intentions."

"I already _told_ you, Pirate Man. All I wanted was to eat and explore."

Keith quirked his eyebrow up, crossing his arms. "So you've said."

"So I have." Hunk's eyes darted towards the closed window, and he idly pondered how long it would take for him to open it and push himself out before he'd get apprehended. Probably way too long.

Plus the porthole wasn’t wide enough for his shoulders, let alone the rest of him.

"Well, If I'm not a prisoner, and I can't leave... what do you want from me?" He asked, swallowing past a lump in his throat.

Keith polished off the rest of his drink, idly tapping his fingers against his bicep. "I haven't decided, yet."

He swept past Hunk, towards the door. "You'll be hearing from me later, and you'll stay _here_ until I've decided what to do with you. Maybe with food, if you behave." He left, locking the door behind him before Hunk could even try to hobble over to stop him.

That didn't deter him one bit as he began to pound on the door. "You can't just keep me in here! I didn't even do anything!"

Keith, despite still standing on the other side, didn't offer a response.

The banging continued for the longest, and Keith sunk against the wall to listen to the other's raving as he truly tried to think of a reason as to why he wanted to keep the other.

Well, firstly, he would definitely tell his town about the pirates hiding not even a mile away from the them. It would probably take days for them to repair their ship, and they didn't need law officers impeding that.

That was a good enough reason, right?

Keith also just... had a feeling about the other. Not a bad one, perhaps, but until he figured out why his gut was twisting in coils as it tried to tell him something, he wouldn't be letting Hunk leave. His instincts had never steered him wrong before. 

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Hunk collapsed against the cot, eyes watering. Then, he quickly rolled onto his stomach to take the pressure off his butt. "Ow, ow ow..."

He groaned, pressing his face into the pillow. If only he'd just stayed at home like a _smart person._ Then he wouldn't be fearing for his life while he waited for his inevitable death.

His stomach growled, and he was reminded that he never got to eat neither breakfast nor lunch.

He'd probably starve to death before the pirate even got two steps in the room later. Hmph, well... it would serve him _right._ Maybe then he'd be sorry and change his ways.

But, probably not.

He'd probably just throw the body overboard.

 _'Alright, Hunk, you're thinking those negative thoughts again.'_ He admonished himself. All he had to do was find a good opening, maybe sneak on deck or something, and high-tail it outta there before anyone could blink. Or maybe he could signal some of the morning fishers early the next day.

He groaned again, louder this time, and hugged his pillow tight. He should've just stayed home.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Lance groaned as he helped heave the final box of produce up onto the boat. Their damned levy had broken upon impact, so he and his band of merry pirates had to carry each and every box up the steps by themselves.

It was kind of a good thing that the town hadn't had everything they needed, or else they'd be carrying the large, heavy cannon shells up one by one, too.

"Find anything good, Quartermaster?" Shiro asked as Lance popped his head into the captain's quarters.

"Just a buncha food so we don't starve, ser. And some beautiful islanders. You know, I wouldn't mind if we took this chance as a vacation, hit it up with the locals... Things like that."

Shiro grew an amused smile. "Yeah?"

"Oh, surely." Lance hopped onto the desk that sat smack in the middle of the tiny room stuffed to the brim with no-doubt important papers that were (no doubt) waterlogged and dusted in a fine layer of sand and sea. Once he made himself comfortable, he nicked the hat from the captain's head and flicked off a few specks from the rim before placing it on his own, turning himself this way and that as he regarded his reflection in the fine silver polish of a nearby spoon.

Shiro fondly knocked the hat from the other's head, pressing a kiss against his now exposed forehead. "Are you suggesting you replace me so soon?"

Lance hummed thoughtfully, tapping his chin. "I'll have to think about it."

Shiro laughed, a rich tone that Lance was able to soak in freely in their spare time, pressing another kiss to his temple. "I'll have to think about the vacation, then."

A knock on the door sounded, and Shiro stepped away to let Lance fix himself up. The last time someone had caught them canoodling, they'd tried to stage a coup. Luckily the crew was loyal enough to quash it almost immediately, but Shiro would much rather not go through the headache again.

"Come in."

Pidge poked her head in, hand covering her face. "You aren't..." She vaguely rolled her hand about the air. " _Kissing,_ are you?"

"You just missed it, I'm afraid. Next show is in ten minutes, though!" Lance laughed, hopping from the desk to fiddle with a cracked spyglass hidden beneath mounds of papers.

Pidge scoffed, stepping in completely and closing the door. "Keith is brooding, and our patient is up and about, if not a bit pissy about being shot in the ass." She reported.

"Shot in—” Lance nearly dropped his toy. "Keith shot someone in the bunghole?"

"Pretty close."

Shiro shook his head. "If you're going to mess with that, try not to break it even more."

Lance tossed the spyglass back where he found it.

"Who did he shoot?"

"Some random villager." Pidge shrugged. "Said he was acting 'suspicious'."

"And he... just shot him in the ass. While I was gone??" Pidge hummed an affirmation and Lance whined. "I always miss the fun bits."

"I just came to say that our sailing master has become all… angsty." Pidge saluted as she sauntered out of the room. "Also, you didn't buy _nearly_ enough to feed the entire crew, Lance."

Lance threw his hands up. "We only had so little coin to use without rousing suspicion. I'll go back out tomorrow."

Pidge made a noise that Lance came to associate with her not believing him, but he just rolled his eyes as the door swung shut.

"I've gotta see this." Lance absently reached over to pat Shiro on the shoulder, though he missed and only succeeded in rubbing his hand all across the captain's face. "You don't mind if I leave you to... whatever it is you were doing before I came in and lit up your entire life?"

Shiro shrugged good-naturedly, and that was all the approval Lance needed to dart out of the room and dash, full speed, towards their 'patient'.

He ran smack into Keith as soon as he rounded the corner, though, and the two pirates went sprawling in opposite directions, completely losing the breath from their lungs.

Anyone who happened to be in the area quickly evacuated, lest the get caught in the crossfires of one of Keith and Lance's infamous arguments.

Lance, however, was in much too of a rush to waste time on _Keith_ , and quickly lifted himself up and swept past the wheezing boy.

"What the _hell_ , Lance?" Keith gathered himself and followed after their gunner.

Lance shushed him violently, shooing him away with one hand. "I'm on a mission! I don't need your interruptions." With that, he jiggled the handle to the surgeon's room and immediately ran face first into it when it didn't open as expected.

On the other side of the room, Hunk jolted awake at the noise. Tiredly, he rubbed at his eyes and looked out of the window to check the time. He'd barely been napping an hour, and already the pirate was back to torture him?

Or, hopefully, feed him.

Hunk would much prefer the latter. His stomach was starting to coil angrily in his gut, though he knew he could survive days before he'd become truly ravenous.

Outside of the door, he could hear hushed voices begin to rise in animosity, and he shrunk back to the corner of the bed, ever careful of his tush, to hold a pillow in front of him as some means of protection.

When the door finally opened, that was how the two arguing pirates found him.

One of them froze where he stood in the doorway, and had to be physically pushed out of the way for the more familiar of the two to step into the room. The one he recognized looked the same as he did an hour ago, if not a bit frazzled. His hat was missing (laying where it was knocked off in the hall from Lance and his short tussle), and he looked much more irate.

The other was... somewhat familiar, though Hunk knew he hadn't seen him that day at all. Maybe he just had one of those faces. His hair was short, curling up around the edges of the tie he wrapped around his head as a bandana, and he wore nothing but shades of blues and offset whites. This one was much more decorated than the other, if his hands were anything to go off of. His palms were wrapped in what looked to be fine silks, a bit discolored around the edges, and his fingers were stacked with rings and jewelries. Hunk would've been impressed if he wasn't so busy trying to get the other to stop staring directly into his soul.

Keith rolled his eyes at Lance's antics, stuffing the key to the door back in his pocket.

"You saw the guy. Now get out of here and quit scarin' him, Lance."

Hunk jolted as if he'd been struck by the name.

"Lance...?"

He hissed as he rolled off of the bed, and Lance met him halfway, throwing his arms around the taller with all of his might.

"Hunk, I—!" His words were muffled in the others shirt as he buried his face deep in it, clinging for all he was worth. He gave up on words entirely as Hunk hugged him back, and he had to greatly resist the urge to jump up and wrap his legs around him as well, like they used to do such a long time ago.

Keith, despite his confusion, wisely chose to stay silent in the tender moment.

Eventually, the two separated with palpable reluctance.

"What are you _doing_ out here?" Hunk tucked a lock of hair behind Lance's ear. "You disappeared one night and I was terrified that you'd..." His throat closed, and he had to pull the other close again before he could speak. "Drowned or something."

"Almost." Lance sighed. "'s'a long story."

Hunk's eyes cut over to Keith. "I've got plenty of time."

Lance pulled back, smacking him against the chest. "I heard you got shot in the ass." He turned to Keith, giving him the stink-eye. "I'll deal with _you_ later."

Keith just grunted, plopping down into his chair.

"What— you aren't gonna give us a little privacy?"

"No."

Lance sighed, and Hunk couldn't help the low chuckle that built up in his chest. "I missed you, buddy."

"I missed you, too."

The two of them sat down on the bed, carefully ignoring the third in their midst, and just _talked._ Like they used to.

Lance told him what happened. How he'd taken a boat out during the middle of a storm like an idiot and ended up tumbling out of it because of a particularly large wave. He'd only survived because he'd gotten tangled in the ropes and ended up scattered along the beach like driftwood. Truly, he couldn't explain how he'd survived swallowing half the ocean, but he swore he could still feel it in the back of his mouth, years later.

"You never forget a beautiful lady's kiss." He'd joked, absently running his fingers across his lips. Hunk knew he'd probably been forever scarred by the experience, though.

He'd been found by their captain, Shiro, who'd cut him free and taken him under his wing. Back then, the crew had always hypothesized that Lance was a mermaid, apparently, and Shiro was keeping it a secret until he found a fair price to sell him for. There were worst rumors, even, but that was Lance's favorite.

Those words stopped easily once Shiro had kicked the teeth out of a particularly rude rumor-mill.

"It was love at first blood. Well, not really. I was downright terrified of him, but he's been nothing but courteous to me." Lance sighed, standing to look out the window. "It's been crazy since I left." He offered a soft, self-conscious smile. "Did you miss me?"

"Of _course_ I missed you." Hunk looked like he was barely resisting getting up to hug the life of out him. "I thought about you every day."

Lance sighed, and he looked so much older than the teen he used to be. He was a completely different Lance, and Hunk's heart clenched when he realized he'd have to learn about an entirely new person. "I'm sorry for leaving like that."

"I'm just happy to see you're okay."

Lance hugged him again. "You're perfect."

Keith's eyebrows shot up at that, but he stayed as silent as he had been the entire time.

They broke apart again, and Lance ruffled Hunk's hair. "You're so scruffy. All you need is a beard and you'll look exactly like your dad."

Hunk grimaced, fixing his hair. "My pa looks like a bear."

"Exactly!" Lance laughed and danced away as Hunk tried to retaliate with a few well-placed pinches. "I'll get you something to tie that up with. For now, you stay here and uh... repair your backside. I'll have a talkin' to with the captain and see what we can do about—" He jerked his thumb towards Keith. "That one's actions."

Hunk carefully avoided looking towards Keith. "Right... Thanks, Lance."

"No problem, buddy. C'mon, broody."

Keith bopped him across the back of his head as he passed and the two were arguing before they even left the room.

Faintly, the lock clicked again and Hunk suddenly felt weighed down by the emptiness of the room. His heart felt heavy as he laid down across the cot, stuffing his head underneath his pillow. He couldn't leave Lance now that he'd found him again. He'd be much too lonely in his tiny little house, in his tiny little town.

But he couldn't _stay_ here. With _pirates_. Right?

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Shiro leaned back in his chair until it was precariously balanced on two uneven legs to prop up his feet on his messy desk. He really needed to clean that up. He'd been meaning to throw out the useless permits he'd been granted that had expired forever ago, but there was never a good place to toss them, and it was so much trouble to dust off a metal barrel to burn them in while they were in the middle of the ocean. Maybe he'd do that later, now that they were stranded.

He tossed a dart into the ceiling, as he usually did when he was bored, and nearly succeeded in knocking another down, straight onto his face. Yikes.

Before he got the idea to do it again, his door nearly came off of its hinges as Keith and Lance burst in, loud as a ghoul's wail and angry as a sea storm.

He sighed, pushing off to sit his chair on all four legs. "What's the problem, boys?"

Keith opened his mouth to speak, but Lance quickly smacked his hand over cross it and shouted, "He shot my best friend!"

Shiro paused, racking his brain as he tried to figure out, of the whole crew, who Lance would consider to be his _best_ friend.

"Pidge?"

"Wh— no! That little guppy haunts my dreams."

Keith slapped Lance's arm away, and Shiro had to jump up to physically separate them as they began to brawl.

"Enough!" He grabbed Lance by both his arms and carried him over to the desk, hoisting him upon it. He motioned for Keith to sit in the chair he'd recently vacated, and the pirate begrudgingly did so only after Shiro gave him that _look_.

"Who did you shoot this time, Keith? I thought we talked about this."

"I didn't shoot anybody new." He mumbled. "Apparently that villager and Lance were... _friends_ or something." He leaned back to snag a mostly empty bottle of rum. He raised it questioningly and Shiro assented with a nod of his head. Quickly, it was polished off and tossed to the side.

Shiro turned to Lance. "You and this... villager were friends then? Before the accident, I'm assuming."

"The _villager_ is named Hunk, thank you very much. And I want this one _arrested_ , or-or... beat up or something!"

"I'm not gonna beat up Keith, Lance."

At that, Lance sniffed haughtily, crossing his arms.

"Keith already explained to me the circumstances. He was worried about the safety of the crew, and took a... rash action. I'm sure he's _very_ sorry."

Lance rolled his eyes. "He wouldn't know sorry if I kicked him in the mouth."

"Not sure that's the way the saying goes." Shiro shook his head. "Either way, the problem will be dealt with, and we will pay this villager for his troubles. Aye? No more fussing about it, and _no more_ throwing punches at each other."

At their rolled eyes, he put his hands on his hips and gave them another _look_. "I _mean_ it."

"Aye, ser." Keith mumbled, standing up.

Shiro stepped aside to let him out, fondly shaking his head. "The two of you will be the death of me."

"Sorry, _ser_." Lance muttered, tugging him back to rest his head against Shiro's shoulder as Keith disappeared out the door. Slowly, he allowed himself to relax as he took in the familiar scent of his lover, sneakily trying to peek at the other from his position.

Shiro was staring right down at him though, and he cracked a grin as soon as he caught Lance. "It'll turn out fine, Lance. We'll return— Hunk, was it?— back where he belongs, and we'll be on our way in a few days. Try not to stress."

Lance grunted, and then clung on tighter to Shiro just because he could. "I'll _try_. I may need many long hours of massage to make up for it, though." He offered a cheeky grin, which Shiro smooched away.

"I'll see what I can do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i TOLD ya it was a romance
> 
> BADA BING


	4. IV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keith is still abrasive as hell in this chapter too IM SORRY,,,

The next morning found Keith being lectured at again by Lance.

"I can't _believe_ you forgot to feed him. He's not an _animal_ you can just cage up and forget about, you know. And I _told_ you not to lock the door."

"Will you _shut up_? I already told you I forgot. Now go feed your _buddy_ and leave me the hell alone about it." Keith unlocked the door and kicked it open, rushing Lance in to shut him up.

The both of them carried a few plates each, stacked with things that near had Hunk weeping for joy.

"Is that...?" Hunk sat up in the bed, near drooling as he was caressed by the familiar scent of yeasty dough and fried fish.

"All for you, buddy!"

Lance set out the plates on the tiny nightstand until he eventually had to line them across the bed. "Sorry for letting you starve out last night. This _knucklehead_ doesn't understand that not everyone feeds from the air like a bottom feeder."

At the mention of the rude pirate, Hunk's eyes darted over. He hesitantly reached over to grab a bread roll and quickly bit into it, as if Keith would steal it right from his hands.

Lance frowned at that, and he fell silent as Hunk quickly scarfed down his food.

"You'll get a stomachache if you keep on like that, Hunk." He ended up teasing, offering a handkerchief. "We'll let you eat in peace, yeah? I'll come back a bit later."

At that, Lance swept Keith up and out of the room, leaving behind the grand feast of fish carcass and day old dinner rolls.

He dragged Keith all the way to the port bow, pulling himself up to sit on the banister and look out on the shallow waters.

Keith, to his credit, realized this would be one of the more serious moments out of his and Lance's relationships, and stayed silent while the other gathered his thoughts.

The taller of the two fiddled with the rings on his fingers, careful not to drop them in the ocean, before he turned his eyes back up to Keith.

"You need to make up with Hunk." He said finally. "He's absolutely terrified of you."

Keith frowned.

"I mean, who could blame him? I'd be terrified that you would whip out a gun at any moment and just shoot my other asscheek, if I already didn't know you're a godawful shot."

"I already said —"

"You didn't mean to. I get it." Lance twisted around so that his feet dangled over the opposite side, nearly losing his shoe in the process. "That doesn't mean Hunk gets it. He's not like us, Keith. He doesn't know he can trust you, especially not if you don't atleast _apologize_ for it."

Keith crossed his arms and leaned them against the railing. The bustling of the sailors behind them made a rush of discomfort furl down his spine— as if any of them would be listening anyway.

Lance was bringing up fair points, though. It was a mistake to have shot first. He would just have to clearly state his reasoning and go from there.

If the other forgave him— Great! He wouldn't have to deal with an unruly until they finally set him loose.

If not, then Hunk would just stop hearing from Keith all together. As soon as they'd wash their hands of the situation and left the tiny island, Keith would be the happiest he'd been in his life.

"Alright. I'll apologize."

"And be _sincere_."

Keith had to resist pushing Lance overboard. "Yes, _mother_." He pushed off of the railing instead and set back the way he came.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Hunk had just finished neatly arranging his cleared plates when the door banged open again, nearly denting the wall. He jumped ten feet out of his skin at the noise, and a few more when he realized it was Keith on the other side.

Keith strode in three steps, right in front of him, and stuck his hand out. Hunk flinched.

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I'm sorry. For shooting you." Keith said, steady as ever. "I shouldn't have acted so rashly, but I was only thinking of my crew in the moment. I didn't trust you— still don't— but that doesn't mean you deserved what happened." Came the rush of words, and Hunk was near certain that was more than he'd ever heard the other speak.

"So, I'm sorry."

Hunk regarded the hand in front of him, and he had to take a steadying breath as he calmed himself.

Instead of grabbing the hand, he pulled back so that his legs were crossed on the cot (though one side was very carefully cushioned by a plush pillow), and he patted the spot next to him.

"Sit."

Keith looked... _very_ confused at the sudden demand, but he went along with it as gracefully as one could in that situation.

He sat, tugging his hat off and hanging it across the footboard, idly blowing a lock of hair from his eyes as he turned to face the other.

Hunk stared at him thoughtfully, and Keith stared back.

"You said you did it for your crew?"

Keith nodded. "I did."

"Are there a lot of spies that come through here then?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

Hunk cracked a smile at that. "No, I s'pose not."

For some reason, Keith's traitorous heart lept as he regarded the other's face. The way the rising sun filtered through the porthole, as if it actively sought the other's presence just to envelope him in a radiant halo made Keith want to rip his hair out. Or kiss him.

His lips _did_ look soft. Not chapped from saltwater and cracked by the sun, but upkept with some sort of balm. Keith wondered what they tasted like. He wondered if Hunk would kiss him back; tangle his fingers in the ends of his hair until Keith mimicked the motion, whispering sweet nothings—

And on _that_ thought, he jumped up. He was getting all hot and bothered just because the man had _smiled_? Eugh.

Hunk looked confused at his sudden aerobics, but he didn't comment on it. Instead, he chose to smile again and hold his hand out.

"You're not as bad as I thought, I guess. I'll forgive you, then." Keith tentatively wrapped his hand in the other's and shook it firmly.

"I'll try to keep guns away from you."

Hunk made a strange noise at that, a cross between a snort and a giggle. "I'm not sure if I should take that as a joke, but I appreciate the effort. Thank you."

Keith offered a grunt in response, gathering up the dirtied plates. "I'll be back later, Hunk." He said instead, opening and closing the door with some impressive foot dexterity.

The door shut, and Hunk wasn't sure if the jiggling handle was the door locking or not this time.

He laid back down. It was minutes later that he realized the pirate had called him by name, and that he realized he had no clue what the other's was.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Pidge grunted as she trailed along the rope from one sail to the next, careful not to drop the repair tools she was delivering to her crew. They thanked her with a chorus of grunts, and she slid back down the way she came, thankful for the new pair of gloves that prevented her frequent rope burns.

Just as she hopped on the next mast to deliver the rest of the tools, she heard Shiro call for her below.

She peeked down between her legs to be sure she wasn't hearing phantoms and— no, that was really him. Standing directly under her, no doubt frightened she would fall. He was always worried about that, even though she'd done the exact same activity long before she joined his crew.

Instead of climbing the rest of the way, she whistled to catch the other half of her team's attention and tossed the tools the few feet away. They caught them easily, and Pidge gave them a two-fingered salute before she let go of the rope completely, plummeting towards the deck at breakneck speeds.

Only to be caught by her captain, as she knew she would be. "Need something, boss?"

He looked like he'd just suffered a heart-attack from her antics, and she offered a cheeky grin in lieu of an apology.

Shiro had to greatly resist tossing her overboard and instead settled for shoving his fingers in her hair and tangling them. She cried out at that, slapping his hands away. The deed was done, though, and she now had a bird's nest atop her head to match her name.

She grumbled, trying in vain to untangle her locks with only her fingers. They both knew he'd be roped into helping her brush them out later, anyway.

"I've just come to check on the work progress." Shiro said, answering her nearly forgotten question.

"The sails have already been mended, both the wheel and rudder tended to, and the masts were hardly touched. The only problem is that the hull took in a bunch of water. We may need to drag Lady deeper onto the sand to repair the broken wood, too."

Shiro hummed at that. It was hardly an easy task to literally drag a large boat out of water, but they'd done harder. "Very well. I'll do what I can. Tell me if you find any more issues."

"Aye, cap'n." Already, Pidge had moved on to more important matters. She was halfway up the mast before she'd finished her sentence, and Shiro could do little more than fondly shake his head at her.

They'd be leaving sooner than scheduled, then. Perhaps a day or so more of work and they'd be ready to find another port to get better supplies.

Keith swept past him, arms stacked full with dirty plates, and Shiro followed after him. "Hungry this morning?"

"Just feeding my prisoner, ser." Came the easy response.

They slid into the always-bustling kitchen, and Keith dumped the plates on a nearby cabin boy and turned to Shiro. "D'you need me for anything?"

"Not at the moment. There isn't much for you to do when we aren't sailing, eh?" Shiro teased, and Keith had the barest hint of a pout as he turned back out of the kitchen. "We should be setting off soon, don't you worry." He squeezed Keith's shoulder as means of comfort.

"Aye, captain."

Shiro pulled back, expression falling to a frown, and he tugged Keith to a secluded corner between the stairs to the deck and the recently vacated hall. "Is everything alright?" Upon closer inspection, Keith did have a strange look upon his face. Troubled, perhaps?

"I'm fine." Keith grumbled, arms crossing self-consciously. "I'll be ready by the time the ship is up again."

Shiro quirked his brow. "I was more asking about your current well being, not your ability to sail." He vaguely gestured to Keith's face. "You're red around the gills."

"I don't have gills." He muttered, waving Shiro's hands away. If anything, he got even redder. "I'm _fine_ , Shiro. Just thinking."

"Mm. Did you make up with your prisoner?"

Keith froze, eyes wide as he looked up at his friend. Shiro had to call upon his carefully molded poker face so that he didn't break out into a laugh. He'd nailed it on the head.

"I take it all went well, then?" If the blush dusting his cheeks were anything to go by, something very _very_  'well' must have happened.

"It went... fine. He accepted my apology." Keith slipped out of their hidey-hole. "I'm going to go help Pidge. Call for me if you need anything else." And with that, he (almost literally) ran back up top.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Night time fell across the ship too soon for most, and most supplies were packed up to be ready for the early morning light. Anything that could still be repaired by candle light was tended to by the night owls and the graveyard shift, but most everything fell quiet.

Everyone was a bit on edge about being discovered, but they hadn't had an incident yet and only decided to keep their fingers crossed instead of causing an uproar about it.

Once the moon was high overhead, Hunk had moved away the nightstand under the porthole and stuck his face against the glass to watch the stars twinkling high above his head. He felt a lot better now that he'd slept most of the day away, though his wound was still very sore (and a bit swollen and bruised), but atleast he could walk on it without face-planting.

He sighed longingly, hoping for the third time that night that the mountain would curve away so that he could watch the moon more clearly. It was blocking half of the sky from their secluded position, and he wasn't used to not being able to see every inch of it whenever he wanted to.

He supposed he was spoiled by his little hut, in that notion. If he ever got a longing to see the sky, all he had to do was step out of his front door. The mountain had never impeded on him back then.

A soft knocking on the door warned him of oncoming visitors, and he sat back down.

In came Keith, with some dinner. More fish, but Hunk wasn't complaining. He'd rarely had anything different in his _normal_ setting, anyway.

"It's hot." Keith warned, turning to quickly exit as soon as he laid the plate down.

"Oh— Thank you!" Hunk called as the door swung shut. It froze halfway to the frame, and Keith poked his head back in to give a half-hearted nod.

"You're welcome."

He pulled his head back as he caught the tail end of Hunk's smile, only to run directly in to Lance.

"Woah there, wheel boy. What's the rush?"

Keith ducked under Lance's arms and quickly evacuated the premises. The door to the infirmary was left open, so Lance just strolled in with an incredulous look across his face.

"Are you bullying our helmsman?"

Hunk paused, a forkful of tender fish halfway to his mouth. "Who?"

"Keith. The guy who shot you?"

"Oh." Hunk frowned, lowering his fork. "No, I've barely spoken to him."

Lance idly tapped his chin. "I see..." A sly grin grew across his face, threatening to split his cheeks in half. Hunk had long ago learned not to interfere unless he wanted to get strung along with the plan, and he would much rather prefer to keep himself as un-maimed as possible by the fiery pirate.

Hunk focused on eating his food, instead. It was blandly seasoned, and the edges of the fish were scorched, burnt crisps flaking off onto the plate whenever he poked at the flesh. It was thoroughly cooked through, though, if not a bit tough. The chef probably overcooked it to ensure no food poisoning, but that could have been easily remedied by cooking it with a different type of wood. Hm...

Lance busied himself on the other side of the room, messing with the physician's equipment.

They sat in relative, comfortable silence, until the moon disappeared completely behind the hilltop, and it was too dark to see without candlelight.

Lance lit two candles for Hunk, fluffed his pillows, and obnoxiously made smoochy noises as he kissed his cheeks. "Is the babe comfortable?"

Hunk groaned, playfully pushing him away. "I'm rebelling."

Lance guffawed, patting Hunk on the chest. "Sure thing, Hunky. I'll see you tomorrow."

He left shortly thereafter, and Hunk rolled over to watch the flames flicker in the dark room, candle wax already dripping and pooling at the base of the candlestick. It faintly smelled like burning dust, but that hardly bothered him.

He stuck his hand out towards the warmth and sighed softly, eyes falling half shut. Idly, he wondered if anyone had closed the door to his home while he was away, or if wild animals had already claimed his bed for their own. He wondered if they were warm, atleast.

The 'knock-knock-knock' of a hammer against wood, dulled by the thick make of the rooms up and above him, helped to rock him to sleep, and for a moment he was amused. He'd always thought pirates would be a bit more exciting; plundering random towns and shooting each other for sport. That was probably foolish for him to think in the first place, really.

If Lance was a part of them, they couldn't be that bad.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Unbeknownst to him, in the middle of the night when he was long past counting sheep and fiddling with his pillow, a visitor made himself known in the tiny little cabin. Keith snuck in further when it seemed Hunk wouldn't wake from the squeaking hinges, slowly sunk down on the bed beside him, and narrowed his eyes as he regarded the man. The fairly handsome man.

The candle was still burning, though it was losing the battle against the drafty room and the thick candle wax. Keith blew it out so it wouldn't waste, careful not to spill the melted wax from the bobèche that curved out from the base of the candlestick. He snagged the plate left by the bedside table as he noticed it, absently studying Hunk's face now that he wasn't distracted by his illuminated features (again).

It was creepy to sneak up on someone while they were sleeping, and he knew if the roles were reversed he probably would have killed the offender, but Keith couldn't help himself. But he was glad to be able to see Hunk resting easy. Truth be told, he was so relieved that the wound hadn't gotten infected so far. Those were always the worst, and Hunk didn't seem the type who deserved to feel that sort of pain.

Keith leaned over to tuck a lock of hair behind Hunk's ear— and as soon as he realized what he was doing, pulled back as if he'd been burned. He placed a hand over his frightened heart and made a swift exit, face flaming bright even in the dark.

He needed to get rid of Hunk as soon as possible. He did _not_ need to catch some sort of... _feeling_ for a villager who wasn't meant for a life at sea. He didn't need to catch a feeling for anyone at all!

The door squealed as it swung shut. With a renewed resolve, he stomped down the hall from whence he came, near cracking the plate with how hard he gripped it.

And— unbeknownst to _him_ , Hunk had woken as soon as the door first opened. His fingers drifted up to his ear as his eyes drifted open, and it was pleasantly warm where he'd been touched.

He shivered, burying himself deeper under the fustian blanket. Keith wasn't as bad as he'd first thought, he supposed. Under that rough and tough exterior, he seemed quite kind. Hunk could respect that immensely.

He clenched his fists together and huffed out a breath of air to calm himself. A smile tugged at his lips, and he hid it against his pillow as he rolled over, absently trailing a finger up and down the curve of his ear. 

Keith was kind of cute when he was flustered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> imagine me, dabbing. b/c that's what i'm doing rn
> 
> can you tell that i had a lot of fun having keith shoot hunk straight in the ass? bc i did and i only feel a little sorry about it
> 
> LMAO THEY'LL BE OKAY THO!!! pinky swear this is still a sappy ass romance fic (with Pirates)


	5. V.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did yall know that i love this story a lot??? b/c i love this story a lot....

Pidge had tied a bandana around her head just five minutes ago, and already it was soaked in her sweat under the sweltering sun. It wasn't even noon yet, and she was sure they were all going to melt. She did _not_ envy the swabbies that day.

They were so close to being done, though, Pidge could almost taste it.

Lance would be back shortly with a few more supplies, and then they would be off before someone from the village trailed him back to their hideaway, if they haven't already.

Usually, it wasn't her that did the heavy lifting like this. She just oversaw any repairs, counted out supplies, and knocked any idiot heads that tied the knots wrong. (One wrong knot could cause the entire thing to fall apart, you know?) As was the duty of the boatswain.

Because they were such a small ship, they needed all the help they could get. It was barely a crew of fifty, which was severely low compared to other ships of their time. Not that Pidge minded. Fifty was already too many for her, and too many hands meant it was harder to find mistakes.

She dealt with it, though, as she'd never found a finer vessel than hers yet. Plus, her captain was a good one.

"We're ready to ground the Lady." She informed Lance as he passed. "Have the cannons been tied down?"

"Who do you think I am?" Came the haughty reply as he continued on. "I'll have the captain alert the crew!" He called back.

Below, on the light colored sand, was about half of their crew. Most were laughing and joking with each other in the shaded area, and each one had a rope wrapped around themselves as they prepared for the tugging of a lifetime.

Shiro stepped on deck to oversee it all, regal as ever. Pidge snorted as she dragged about a gallon of sweat from her brow with the front of her shirt.

Once the pirates began tugging, however slow they were at it, she did feel a bit cooler. Even the tiniest gust of wind was refreshing on such a humid day.

Lance helped set the rhythm of the tugging, his loud yet melodic voice lilting enough to hypnotize them with its beat. That was just one of his many charms, she supposed. He always had a way with words like that.

Keith was at his usual station, the wheel, and was fiddling with the mismatched wood. One half was a deep earthy color that matched the rest of the ship, and the other half was a light birch color. Pidge still had no clue how they'd gotten such skilled workers that were able to fix something so intricately, but she was proud to be able to lead them (though she didn't say it often).

An hour later, she found herself down below, helping to pull the boat further ashore. It would be easier to ground the large ship, she knew, than to push it back out, but she'd worry about that after they'd fixed the repairs. It would only take a few hours at most. The good thing about breaking most of it was that they didn't have to worry about repairing the tiny bits, and instead were able to replace them as a whole.

It took another hour to empty out the waterlogged bottom, but it was still before noon, and they were happy with their progress. They weren't able to celebrate as loudly as they usually did, what with being on the down low, but they still stopped for a cooling lunch of deliciously juicy fruits and to douse each other with the cold ocean water.

Shiro reached down to help Pidge up the last few ladder steps. "Nice work, kid."

She maturely blew a raspberry at him. "We should be fit to sail atleast by the time the sun sets, unless there's a surprise kraken waiting for us in the cove."

Shiro nodded, and pulled out a slip of parchment. "We should be able to keep our schedule, then, if all goes well. I'm sure our _forgiving client_ will be merciful when cutting our salary." He sighed. Then, he ruffled her hair. "Nice work." He repeated, and she shook her head at him.

"Thanks, cap'n. See you when the boat's repaired."

Before she slid her way back below, she curved around to visit her favorite helmsman. "The wheel not up to your liking, ser?" She grinned, leaning across the wood. "I'm sure we can break it again for ya."

"I'd rather you not, thanks." He deadpanned, and Pidge tsked at him.

"How's the prisoner keeping up in the heat?"

Keith glanced up at the sky, and then shrugged his shoulders. "I haven't checked on him since breakfast."

Pidge nearly strangled him on the spot.

"Keith, that room holds heat more than an oven. He could be boiled alive by now." She physically shoved him towards the stairs. "I am _not_ mopping up melted villager. Go, get!" She snapped her fingers, and he shoved her bandana down over her eyes, momentarily blinding her.

She was lucky he liked her or else he would've pushed her down the stairs, too.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Hunk, on the other side of the boat, was _absolutely_ melting in his skin. He’d sweat so much he was sure the bed had increased three times in size. He eventually just had to shed his overalls and undershirt, and that was earlier that morning. Now, he was just down to his underthings, and even stuffing his pillow against the porthole did nothing.

He was tempted to kick down the door, but his backside hurt too much when he lifted his leg to do so.

He collapsed against the bed, instead, and spread his limbs to keep them from touching. There was nothing worse than sweaty skin sticking to itself.

A soft knock on the door brought his attention back, and he nearly sobbed in relief when Keith stepped in with a mug of water.

"Sorry to leave you in here. Forgot how well insulated it was." He said, passing the water. "Don't get dehydrated."

"I already am." Hunk whined after gulping down the water in two mouthfuls. "Can I have some more, please?"

He looked so pitiful, soaked in his own sweat, that Keith couldn't help but grant some mercy. "Alright." He stood, and Hunk looked ready to kiss his boots in thanks. "Come with me."

"Huh?"

Keith didn't elaborate, and instead tugged Hunk up by his arm.

"Wait— my clothes!"

Keith snagged them on the way out, and tossed them to another passing sailor to have them washed and dried, still tugging Hunk out by his elbow. On the way out, they left the door open so that the room could lose some of the heat it had soaked in like a sponge.

To say Hunk was embarrassed by being half naked was an understatement, especially when Keith was still in a shirt and pants (though he'd lost the hat, bandana, and coat a while ago. Even his heavy boots had been replaced with something more streamlined).

When they reached the top deck, after a few moments of him struggling with his injured buttock, Hunk was a lot less nervous about it when he realized Keith was the odd one out. Most had abandoned anything that covered their upper half, and most pants had been rolled up over the knees or taken off entirely. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw one or two disappear below deck wearing nothing at all.

Lance wolf-whistled as he noticed Hunk, waving them over.

He looked to Keith, who let go to allow him to wander over himself, and Hunk had to tell himself multiple times not to rush and get a splinter in his toes.

"Good to see you, Hunk! You're sweating worse than a wet towel." Lance said, pulling out a handkerchief to pat Hunk's face dry. "What, did you two go about it like rabbits before coming on up?"

Hunk turned red, and only half of it was from the sun. Keith scoffed, rolling his eyes and Lance's antics.

"Quit teasing the poor guy, Lance. He's been through enough trauma from my crew to last a lifetime, I'm sure." Shiro appeared then, a gentle smile upon his face as he held his hand out to Hunk. "I'm Shiro, the captain of this fine vessel. It's wonderful to see you up and about."

Hunk hurried to stand tall, reaching out his hand. "Ah, nice to meet you! I'm Hunk."

Lance waggled his eyebrows, and Keith popped him on the back of his head, nearly knocking his hat off into the water. As the two of them began their daily argument, Shiro leaned over the side of the ship to whistle sharply. "Pidge! Come up here for a minute?"

A voice below responded, though Hunk couldn't make out the words. Shiro turned back to him and motioned him forward. The two of them watched as a tiny thing of a sailor climbed a rope, instead of the perfectly good ladder to the left, to hoist herself over the rails. "What'd'ya need, capt'?"

"Just wanted to introduce you to our patient." Shiro said, pulling Hunk forward. "Hunk, meet Pidge. The one who keeps our beautiful Lady beautiful."

"I try my best, but I don't think anybody can help that giant mermaid." Pidge grumbled, hopping on deck. "Good to meet you, Hunk. Nice underwear."

Hunk flushed a bright red, and Pidge couldn't help but laugh at his misfortune. "I get it, don't worry! It's hotter than a cat's ass out here." She grumbled as she turned to Shiro. "We're 'bout ready to finally get outta here. We just had to make one more supply run for some lumber and we should be ready to go until we find an _actual_ repair stop."

"Good to hear." Shiro praised. "Lance, are we stocked on food, medicine, and the like?"

"Of course, of course! Pidge counted 'em up and everything. We should be good for about a month, unless everything rots before then. In which case, I look forward to eating you, ser!" He punctuated with a wink, but Shiro hardly reacted to it.

"Great job." He praised instead. "Now, quit messing with Keith and make sure the powder is stored correctly, will you?"

Lance grumbled, prodding at Keith one last time as he hopped from his perch to go and please his captain.

Pidge hopped on the opposite side of the railing and began to slide down the rope. "I'll holler when we're ready to push this... _Lady_ back to the sea." She clicked her tongue at Hunk, waggled her eyebrows as she eyed his underwear once more before she disappeared below.

He really needed to find some breezy pants.

Shiro clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm sure Keith brought you up here for a reason, but whenever the two of you are finished, I'd like to have a word in my study, if you will?"

"Oh, um... Of course." He grimaced then and added a hesitant (and slightly confused), "Ser?"

Shiro laughed at that, briefly taking off his hat to fan a wave of fresh air across his head. "Try not to hurt yourself."

Then, it was just the two of them.

Keith motioned for Hunk to take the ladder down. "You're hot, right? Go cool off in the water."

Hunk warily looked down at the rope, and then off to the side at the working pirates on the coast.

"They won't mess with you." Keith said, impatience tangible. "Go."

Hunk threw up his hands in defeat and began to slowly trek down to the beach. Every time he lifted his thigh, his wound pulled taut, but it didn't open again which was a very good sign.

They made it down, though Keith grumbled about him being slow. Hunk offered him a good natured smile in return, though, and waded out until he was thigh deep in the cool waves.

Keith rolled up his pants further to join him, arms curled around himself in what Hunk was beginning to associate with his usual stance.

The sun waved hello and Hunk smiled back, nearly beating it in terms of brightness. Keith knew he was blinded by it almost immediately, and turned away to watch his crewmates work.

Hunk took his time enjoying the respite he'd earned, slowly wading through the water. He scared a few schools of fish away, and nearly got knocked over by a small wave of water.

He wasn't sure if he'd heard Keith snicker at him for that, but he smiled back at him anyway.

They stayed out long enough for Hunk's toes to prune, and the two had tanned a bit around the edges by the time they'd made it back up the ladder.

A crewman passed by, tossing Keith the clothes he'd thrown off hours before, and Hunk gratefully took and folded his cleaned and dried clothes. His thumbs passed over green patches, where whoever’d been washing the clothes tried (and failed) to get the moss stains out. Not a hint of blood still marred the fabric, though, so Hunk took that as a win.

"You don't think I'd be able to take a bath, too, would you?"

Keith's eyebrow lifted and he gestured back to the ocean. "You just took one."

Hunk bit his tongue, though he must have gotten some sort of sour look on his face by the way Keith rolled his eyes.

"It was a joke. I'll fetch you something on the way back to the infirmary."

Hunk twiddled his thumbs. "Actually... the captain said he wanted me to speak with him. Once we were finished. Unless, you're not finished with me. Although I am feeling much cooler now, thank you. And I'm sure the room's aired out by now, too, so I won't get overheated again, I think?"

Keith quickly held up his hand to stop him from talking. "Shut up. C'mon." He grabbed Hunk by the wrist and tugged him towards Shiro's study.

He knocked twice on the door, waited a beat, and strolled right in. Hunk, however, hovered in the doorframe until Shiro had to physically wave him in.

"Nice to see you not drowned." He mumbled, leaning so far back in his chair, the tails of his jacket caressed the floor. In both his hands were two different papers, and he seemed to be reading both at the same time. "Please, sit."

Keith plopped down on the corner of the desk and motioned Hunk to sit in the fancy, cushioned seat near him.

"You wanted to talk to me about something?" And then, belated, "Ser?"

Shiro's eyes darted up to regard him, and he fondly shook his head at the way Hunk tried to shrink himself down. "We need to discuss your— mm... 'circumstances'."

"My circumstances?" Hunk looked down at himself, still as naked as ever.

"Not those. The fact that my sailing master here shot you and is keeping you locked away in our infirmary."

Keith was the one who shrunk down at that.

"Of course, we'll let you decide what will happen next." Shiro waved his hand around the air, tossing the two papers uselessly to the ground.

"Well, what do you mean?"

"You may choose if you'd like to, for instance, fight for your freedom, if honor is a thing that means much to you. You may choose to stay aboard, or even just to leave in the dead of night. Most won't try to stop you."

"I can just... leave?"

"If that's what you wish." Shiro conceded. "Keith and I discussed it last night, and we both decided the next course of action would be in your hands."

Hunk looked overwhelmed at the sudden declaration that he was free to leave as he chose, without having to make a daring escape or anything.

Of course, his choice would be to leave. Who would choose piracy in this situation?

"I... Can I think about it?"

Shiro nodded. "Of course. We'll be leaving in the morning's first light. Try not to oversleep, unless you wish to swim the way back home."

Hunk nodded. "Thank you very much, ser." He quickly stood. Then, he sat back down. "Am I allowed to leave? The room— I mean… Not the boat. Just yet."

Shiro couldn't help but laugh. "I'm not _your_ captain as of yet. Feel free."

Hunk slowly stood again, and even slower he hobbled back towards the door. Keith, instead of escorting him out, stayed where he sat until it swung shut again.

The captain continued to sort through his backlogged papers. "I've settled the matter for you, as you requested." From the corner of his eye, he regarded Keith. "You and I both know I'm all for a naturally progressing romance— slow and steady after all— but are you sure you're willing to let him go?"

"What does romance have to do with anything?" Keith spat. "I don't know him, and he doesn't know me. It's better to keep it that way."

Shiro shrugged his shoulders half-heartedly. "Alright."

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Hunk had made it one foot in the door to his 'room' when he remembered that:

 

  1. Keith wasn't with him, and
  2. Said Keith still had his clothes.



 

The best course of action from then on would have been to wait in the doctor's room where he knew Keith would look for him.

But Hunk was never one to follow the rules. (He was, really, but he was feeling a bit rebellious now that he had the captain's permission to leave.)

So, instead of staying put, he went to the bottom decks to watch the pirates repair their poor Lady.

They hardly noticed him wander up. Or— if they did— they hardly acknowledged him. Pidge gave him the most response by absently waving as she oversaw the repairs, commanding everyone this way and that.

They only had one more hole to fix, but it seemed like it required a lot of layers. Or something? Hunk wasn't sure what he was looking at, but they were very efficient by the way they worked in a seamless loop. One pirate handed something off, and the next hammered it down, and the third covered it with some sort of glue, or maybe some varnish, and so on. An endless work-train of pirates.

Hunk loved patterns like that; things that notched together perfectly.

He sat on his barrel for what must have been an hour, maybe two, until Pidge clapped her hands to catch their attention as the last ray of sunlight was shoved out by the remaining wood planks as they were pinned down.

"Great job, boys." She was distracted already, writing on a scrap of paper that no doubt was a list of everything she needed to get done before they set sail. "Go make dinner rounds."

The pirates cheered, most clumping together in little packs as they stampeded to the mess hall.

She minutely nodded at Hunk as she passed, eyes scanning every line of her packed parchment. She held it so close to her face, he was certain she was crosseyed, but he didn't want to bother her while she was so focused. 

Instead, he silently left her to her own devices and headed back to the infirmary. He'd have to hunt for his clothes later, when Keith (hopefully) brought him dinner.

Imagine his surprise when he was greeted to a dozing pirate half reclined across his bed.

He carefully walked over to Keith, peering down at him. He looked very uncomfortable in his position, with his lower half in a chair and his upper strewn across the bed. Hunk pressed his hand against Keith's shoulder to lightly shake him, but he was just waved away with a sleepy groan.

He couldn't help the smile, and he (very carefully) lifted Keith the rest of the way on the bed so he wouldn't be murdering his posture.

Upon moving him, Hunk found his clothes. Keith had glued his arms around them, and it took a while of prying his fingers off to reclaim them.

Hunk watched the sun set the rest of the way as he got redressed, breathing in the clean scent. It was much different than the way his soap smelled at home, but he couldn't say that he hated it.

It was a bit more herbal compared to the flowery undertones he was used to, but he could barely imagine one of the crew sitting down and grinding down flower petals for that extra smell to add to their soap.

Keith rolled over, interrupting Hunk's daydream, and their hands brushed together as Keith's arm flung over the side of the bed.

His fingers felt rougher than Hunk's were. The bits exposed from the glove were, anyway. His fingernails were cut short, or perhaps they were bitten that way, but they weren't as dirty as the others he'd seen around the boat.

His palm was incredibly warm, too, and Hunk wasn't sure if that was normal for him, or if he was running around with some sort of illness. But he liked it.

For a moment, he was reminded of the gentle touch he'd received the night previous, and his own fingers strayed up to his ear.

Keith's palm was tiny in Hunk's hold as he compared them, and the leather of Keith's gloves creaked slightly as he curled his fingers around it.

He had strong hands, though. Hunk liked that about him. He wondered if sailing was rough on him, and if that's how he'd earned his finger dexterity. Twirling around a wheel didn't _look_ like hard work, but it was one of the only things that moved the massive ship, so Hunk knew better than to think little of it.

He had begun to slowly run his thumb across the back of Keith's hand, when the other blinked his eyes open.

His brain was slow to process what exactly was happening, but as the pieces slowly fell together, his face began to burn a pretty shade of red.

Keith sat up, yanking his hand from Hunk's grip to hold it to his own chest.

"What are you doing?" He accused the other, and Hunk quickly stood— when had he knelt down?— to give the other his space.

"Sorry, I... wasn't thinking." Hunk backed up towards the top of the bed, knocking over the candlestick on his way over. The two of them muttered a curse, and Hunk dropped to his knees to pick up the wax pieces.

Keith took the reprise to steady his breathing. Shit.

"Sorry, I— sorry." Hunk stammered. "I should have been watching where I was going." The candle had broken in half, but Keith knew someone on board would easily be able to fix it.

He slid off the bed and snagged it from Hunk's hold. "I've got it."

Without making eye contact, he dug around for an extra candle and quickly lit it, casting shadows across the tiny room. He waited a moment until the match went out fully before he stiffly turned to the door.

Hunk quietly watched him go, and stayed standing until the door had shut all the way, and Keith's footsteps quieted the further he went down the hall. Then, he all but collapsed against the bed, groaning into the pillow.

The place that Keith vacated was just as warm as his hands, though, and Hunk couldn't stop himself from basking in it.

A short ways down the hall, Keith hid himself in a barely visible corner and squeezed his fists tightly together, holding them against his stomach. It wouldn't stop doing somersaults, and he was certain he was going to throw up his heart if it didn't stop.

He... _might_ have had a crush on Hunk, he could admit. But nothing would come of it, he reminded himself. Hunk belonged on his island, and Keith belonged to the sea— to his _ship_.

He ignored his tingling palm, and tried to force himself to forget the tender way it was cradled— dwarfed, really— in Hunk's support. Hunk deserved someone who would care for him every day. And the two barely knew each other. Less than three days, and he was ready to give himself entirely to the other, just for a bright smile and to see his beautiful brown eyes sparkle with mischief? How pathetic.

And anyway— he wasn't the type to be all mushy like Hunk would probably like. He would probably like _hugging_ and _kissing,_ not... whatever it was Keith would offer up. He was much too impersonal. A hothead, as everyone liked to call him. All he would be able to give Hunk was his heart, and he was certain that would never be enough.

Keith had nothing that would be worthwhile to give; never would in a million years. He could swear his life on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise keith angst because im a piece of shit /jazz hands/


	6. VI.

The next morning, Hunk was woken up bright and early by Shiro himself. As soon as he realized the person shaking him awake was the captain, he'd thrown himself out of bed and saluted as straight as he could.

Shiro had laughed at him, offered him a very familiar, wide-brimmed sun hat the sailors had found on the sand, and led him to the top deck.

"Once we return my Lady back to the sea where she belongs, we'll be setting sail." Came the polite reminder. The sun had barely begun to peak over the horizon, and Hunk could still pinpoint a few stars in the distant, blueing sky. "I trust you'll have come to a decision by then, aye?"

"Yessir." Hunk confirmed, sleepily rubbing the last bits of the sandman's dust from his eyes. "I'll be out of your hair, soon."

Shiro got a funny look on his face then. It was vaguely sad, but surely he wouldn't miss the village boy that much. They'd barely spoken a paragraph to each other.

"I'll leave you to it." Shiro said instead, motioning for him to go about his business as he turned towards his office.

The clouds ahead sparked as they collided in the air. It looked like the rain would be visiting them later that day.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Lance hummed a cheery tune as he carried the boxes to their rightful place, expertly tying them down for the upcoming voyage.

"You don't usually spend your free hours with me, sailing man." He teased the brooding Keith. "What— did you have a fight with ol' Hunk?"

Keith didn't respond to the jab, and instead turned away his head as he hammered down the lid to a separate box.

Lance frowned. Apparently he'd hit it on the nose. Or, atleast aimed in the right direction. Instead of prodding at Keith further, though, he sighed obnoxiously loud and stretched his back until it popped.

Rays of sunlight began to filter through the porthole, and he flipped his ornate hat back on his head. "Time to go, then. You comin', broody?"

He received a signature grunt in response, and he took that as his cue to lead him up top.

Unfortunately for him, they ran in to Hunk not five steps in. Lance, of course, was overjoyed and quickly tangled his arms up with his friend's, tugging him over to the edge of the boat to look down on the crew as they prepared to push the boat back in.

Hunk pointedly avoided looking at Keith, though his ears were shaded in a soft pink. "Should we be down there helping?"

"Pfft. Nah, they've got it." Lance tossed the idea over his shoulder. "We don't add that much weight to this beauty."

"You might not, but your heavy ass jewelry sure does." Pidge goaded as she passed, vaulting over the side of the boat and sliding down a nearby rope to join the rest of the crew in their task, all in one smooth motion.

Shiro joined them before Lance could retaliate properly, following Pidge's example and sliding down a rope instead of taking the perfectly safe stairs not two feet to the left.

Hunk leaned over the railing, fingers crossed that they would be able to get the boat in first try. It was strange how, at first, he'd been downright frightened of them. He'd barely even interacted with the crew, but now he was happy that they were getting back to schedule, doing something they enjoyed.

Hopefully that didn't include pillaging random towns. (But who was he to judge, really?)

Keith and Lance stayed topside with him, and Lance cheered his crew on the entire time while he lazily swung his arm through the air. It was another way for them to set up a steady rhythm for pushing without straining too hard, though it was less melodic as the first time Hunk had witnessed it.

The wood creaked before it finally gave under the pressure, and the Lady slowly made contact with her lover again. Water splashed up, soaking most of the pirates as she slid the rest of the way on her own. Keith and Lance hurried to drop anchor so that they wouldn't float out to sea, leaving everyone behind, and a round of cheers burst forth. They were quickly hushed, though, under threat of island authorities, and everyone hurried to board again.

Once on deck, Pidge began to wring out her shirt. "We're all set, capt'." She saluted. "Shall I drop the sails now?"

"Please do." Shiro offered her a cloth to towel off with before turning to Keith. "Ready to get back to it?"

"You know it, ser."

They grinned at each other, and Lance rolled his eyes. "I'll be below deck, then."

"Wait with me for a moment?" Shiro said, offering his elbow. Lance took it habitually, though he looked mildly confused at the sudden request.

Keith caught eyes with Hunk for a moment, and their hearts simultaneously stuttered, near stopping in their chest. Keith clutched his hand so tight his nails dug indents into his palm, and he had to force himself to break eye contact; to turn away to his post as means of ignoring his feelings.

Hunk, despite the hurt look that shot across his face like lightning during a thunderstorm, straightened his spine and turned to the Captain and Quartermaster.

"I guess... I'll be back in the infirmary, then."

"Actually, no." Shiro gestured towards the cove. "Now that our fair Lady has been repaired, you're free to leave."

The grip Lance had on his arm tightened, and his smile grew sour against his lips. Shiro _heard_ more than saw Keith react, the wood of the steering wheel creaking menacingly as he gripped it as tight as he could.

Shiro gave Lance a comforting squeeze on the bicep.

"I'd like to know your answer now, before the wind flies away without us." He informed Hunk. "You can, of course, stay with us if you'd like. We've plenty of room."

Stay? Why on earth would he, especially given the circumstances? Pfft.

He was about to voice as much, too, when he caught the look on Lance's face. His 'I'm pretending not to care but I very much so care _immensely_ ' look that he used to get, when his parents tried to talk him out of his want of roaming the seas and instead take over his family's business of trading. Land-based trading, at that.

And, well... Hunk really _did_ miss Lance after their years apart. It had been so long since they'd seen each other, and longer still that he saw Lance genuinely happy. And he was going to give that up for... a lonely life in a tiny hut?

Not to mention... he did quite like it on their ship— Lady. She was magnificent in both aesthetics and engineering, and he was never one to shy away from learning more about fine crafts such as she. Pidge didn't much seem to mind him sitting in on her repairing this or that, and she even explained a few of the finer details when he asked. He was sure she wouldn't mind him staying, if their short interactions were anything to go off of.

And Keith was— well. It probably mattered little to him whether Hunk stayed or left. But, even if he'd been the one that both injured and kidnapped him, he didn't seem like a bad guy. He seemed loyal to his crew, if not a touch broody. But he had gentle hands, and Hunk knew that _that_ , if nothing else, spoke volumes of his character.

There wouldn't be a problem with him staying by the crew, if the handful he'd met were anything to go off of. There was more here for him, in terms of people and excitement, than whatever was waiting for him back on the island.

He squared his shoulders, folding his hands across his belly as he came to his decision, one brasher than he'd ever had before.

"I'd like to stay."

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

They set sail not long after Hunk came to his decision, and he was still riding the high from the look of complete joy (not to even mention the surprise) that had engulfed Lance's entire face, when Keith came to stand beside him.

It was still morning, not even close to noon. The other pirates (his new _crewmates_ ) were being as loud as they wanted to, now that the threat of the law was off their shoulders, and a few were already drunk.

Being able to hear them in the same space and not from inside a locked room made Hunk feel better than he thought it would.

The navigator beside him look straight ahead, at the horizon. In the distance, Hunk's island grew smaller and smaller as the knots passed.

"Welcome to the crew." Keith finally spoke, turning to regard Hunk. He looked tense, which set of Hunk's own discomfort with the interaction.

"Thanks. I... hope we get along nicely?" Hunk offered his hand, shifting his weight from one leg to the next (and back again as it sent a bout of pain up his asscheek).

Keith scoffed, but he _did_ shake hands with him.

It was a start.

Hunk turned back to the sea, carefully timing his breathing to offset the slight nausea that curled in his gut, dipping and bobbing with every wave they passed over. Eventually, he took to sagging against the railing and staring only at his hands instead of the choppy waves, to calm his nerves and his stomach.

"Are you alright?"

He startled, yanking himself back into a full stand. "I'm fine. Just a bit... sick."

Keith narrowed his eyes, and his frown deepened. "You're _sick_?"

"Just... seasick. Motion sick. It happens, sometimes."

Keith seemed to physically restrain himself from smacking himself across the forehead. Incredulously and under his breath he muttered, "A seasick pirate."

Hunk gave him a weak smile and a weaker shrug. "It'll go away with time. I just need it to settle." Hunk turned away as the island left his view completely. It always had been such a tiny thing.

The other sighed again, turning on his heel and motioning for the other to follow. "Come."

Hunk stayed still for little more than a second before Keith glared back at him. " _Come on_." He hurriedly jumped to attention and jogged after the touchy pirate.

He was led to the kitchens, where he was commanded to sit on a stool and wait while Keith messed around in the kitchen, ignoring the ire of the chef.

Hunk was left to his own devices for a short while, long enough for him to relax in his seat and start picking away at the fraying ends of his shirt.

Keith appeared beside him with a platter, and what he brought back with him had Hunk reeling back in surprise. "Tea?"

Keith gave him a silent nod, gently placing the teacup down in front of him. Which, by the way, was a juxtaposition that had Hunk stifling a laugh. The dainty teacup was so tiny it needed to be lifted with only two fingers, neither of which would be able to fit through the handle. Not to mention the kettle he seemed to pull from behind his back like a magic trick was bright and bubbly— a direct opposite to the boy carrying it.

"Drink. It'll help."

Hunk looked dubious of that. He'd tried _many_ home remedies that never worked, and he'd even gone to 'professionals' who'd tried to cure him of it.

But— well... he'd never been to a pirate doctor. So who knew?

He looked into the tiny teacup, and a deep wine-colored liquid greeted him. He took a quick sniff of the aroma and a soft smile made its way across his face.

"What?"

"Nothing." Hunk said, grinning at Keith before he took a small sip. He'd brought him blackberry tea. An all too common remedy he'd been suggested and tried _over_ and _over_ again.

"Is it... okay? Settling your stomach?"

His stomach had long since settled once he'd left the oceanview behind, but the taste was familiar enough to pull away any other lingering doubts in his mind about his choice, for some reason. He caught Keith's eye, and he looked a smidge worried about his reaction to the drink.

"It's delicious. I feel better already."

Keith relaxed, eyes shutting for a moment. He brought his hands, clasped together, towards his mouth to hide his smile. "I'm glad. I used to hate the stuff when Shiro made it for me, but it always made me feel better."

He watched as Hunk blew away a bit more steam before he took another sip. "I made it myself, like he used to for me. It doesn't taste like I remember, though. And it doesn't warm my stomach at all." He mused aloud.

Hunk didn't mention that it was probably Shiro's _presence_ , and not the actual tea, that gave him that fuzzy feeling. He also didn't mention that blackberry was more for diarrhea and less for... general stomach discomfort, because who was he to ruin good memories?

Instead, he topped off the rest of his cup. "I love it." He couldn't remember the last time someone made tea for him. Not since he was a kid. "Thank you, Keith."

Said pirate seemed surprised that Hunk referred to him by name. He pretended that the flush that rose across his neck and painted his cheeks was from handling the tea from earlier, and it only just now decided to hit him.

"You're welcome..." His eyes darted up to Hunk's. "Hunk." He added, a mumbled word that Hunk strained to hear, but was pleased with nonetheless. He was cute when he acted like that.

It was only later, when Keith dropped him off back in his room— the infirmary, not an actual cabin— that he realized exactly what his thoughts had meant.

Hunk dropped against the bed, burying his face in his hands. His face felt hot against his clammy palms and couldn't stop smiling as he recalled the prior hour through heart-shaped glasses.

Keith's voice was soft as he’d recalled his good memories, and he was much more open in the privacy of an empty dining room than he was on the top deck of the ship. And just the very act of Keith going through the effort to not only share the memory, but an actual gift meant to comfort him helped Hunk to realize that Keith was trying to befriend him. Everything he'd learned about Keith, despite the short period they'd been together, was something he liked.

That thought rolled around his brain like a tumbleweed.

He liked Keith.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Down the hall, in his own room (one of the luxuries that came with being one of the Captain's chosen few: having his own, private room), Keith sat in front of his desk. His hands worked from pure muscle memory alone as he sharpened his favorite knives, something he only did when he was feeling truly restless. They hardly needed the upkeep when he rarely used them, after all.

He was actively avoiding the mirror to his left as he worked. He knew he'd only see a blushing idiot staring back at him.

He was... pleased that Hunk had decided to stay with them. And he didn't know whether or not that was a good thing.

A nagging voice that suspiciously sounded like a teasing Lance echoed around his head, "You _liiiike_ him."

He groaned, tossing his knife to the side to curl over his desk, burying his face against the sleeves of his coat.

What on earth had brought this about? He was barely one to make _friends,_  let alone random crushes with random villagers (whom he _shot_ ).

But— Hunk was... different than that. Different than what Keith was used to. He was _kind,_ and _soft_ , and everything Keith was _not_. Maybe that's why he liked him so much.

Ugh.

He forced himself not to think of Hunk one second longer, grabbing his knife to store it properly. All he had to do was never think about it again, and his little crush would die off soon, no doubt.

With a harsh nod and a clap of his hands, Keith convinced himself that his plan was the right one. He had no need to turn into a sap like Shiro and Lance did those few years ago. There was no point in sharing soft touches and holding eye contact for uncomfortably long periods of time like they did. All he needed was a strong breeze in the sails and a working wheel, and he'd get along just fine.

He took out his knife from its proper case, put it away, and took it out again just to give his hands something to do.

The feelings would die soon, and he'd be _just_ fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little more keith angst again bc im still a piece of shit
> 
> !! they know that they know each other's names now!!! it's like third base or something
> 
> (i cant wait for them to reach base 12)


	7. VII.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i posted a preview of this on my tumblr forever ago and it was so self-indulgent to write that im excited to share it a second time

Aaand... The feelings wouldn't go away.

Keith had tossed and turned in his bed trying to get his brain to _shut up_ but apparently he just couldn't get the memo. It wasn't even _night_ and he was contemplating knocking himself out just to stop thinking about it. About _him_.

He stuffed his pillow tight against his face and yelled into it until he ran out of breath and nearly choked on the rough pillowcase.

He threw it at the wall instead and flopped bonelessly against the bed again. He needed to make himself busy or else he was going to go crazy.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Which was how he found himself back on deck, shooing away his substitute to take over the wheel. The familiar, comfortable swelling curve of the smoothed wood always assuaged Keith in ways words never could.

He focused on that feeling, of matching his thoughts with his heart with the pulse of the sea.

He'd almost reached inner peace when Lance's familiar cackle snapped him out of it like a broken violin string under scissors.

He strode on deck like he owned it, as he always did, lifting a large wooden tub over his head as he laughed and gossiped with none other than the one Keith had been hoping to avoid for the rest of his life.

Hunk carried with him a smaller bucket and a length of rope, strange supplies for someone half-naked until Keith remembered that he'd promised him a bath. Whoops.

Lance caught him staring and tossed him a grin that rivaled a crescent moon during a thunderstorm.

"Look who's finally doing his job." Lance teased, dragging Hunk and his supplies over so they could tug up water while still being able to rag on his favorite victim. "I don't know why we don't just replace you yet."

Keith grumbled under his breath. No use throwing words sure to hurt when he knew Lance was just having fun with his friend. Whom he hadn't seen in... what, half a decade almost?

"I'm the best you'll get." He said instead, keeping his eyes forward and _away_ from Hunk.

Mostly because, if he _did_ look, he'd never want to look away. His arms were thick and strong as he leaned over the edge of the ship, dipping first the large tub in the water and easily hoisting gallons of water with only one of his hands. He had a handsome quirk of his brow as he focused, the look of someone used to working with his hands, and Keith's face flushed as he could almost hear Lance teasing him for that specific string of words.

"Ready to get clean, stinky?" Lance asked, grabbing the smaller bucket as Hunk offered it to him.

"Yes, _please_. I don't know how you stand it." Hunk winced. "That... came out a bit wrong."

"Nah, you get used to it. Most pirates aren't as clean as you and I, you know." Lance swung his arm around Hunk's shoulder. "You have to develop the skin for it first. Lord and high above knows it took me years."

They laughed, and Keith was a big enough man to admit that he got a bit jealous at how easily they interacted, even after such a long while.

He must have been staring hard, because Lance glanced over his shoulder just as they stepped towards the stairs.

"What— you wanna join us, stink ass?"

Keith pursed his lips, ready to drop kick Lance into the sun.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

And _that_ was how he found himself sitting on a stool in the corner of the room, watching Hunk bathe.

Lance was there, too, digging through a pile of clothes he'd dug out from who-knows-where for Hunk. Every so often, he’d pause whatever spiel he was hashing to lift up a shirt or a pair of trousers before eventually, and disgustedly, throwing them onto the ground.

Hunk, in the meanwhile, focused on scrubbing himself clean. He'd been embarrassed when he'd realized both Lance and Keith would be in the room with him while he bathed, and so had tied a privacy blanket from the pole of the bed to the doorknob to hide his lower half.

Keith didn't even _need_ that much to get heated around the collar.

And okay, sure. He would definitely admit that it was weird of him to ogle someone in the shower, but _lord's eye and wishbone_ was he a marvel to look at. His hair was a bit on the shaggy side, which Lance didn't hesitate to point out every so often, but it framed his face perfectly when it was damp. He kept his eyes lowered towards his own body, no doubt out of self-consciousness, but he seemed comfortable enough to hum a soft tune that gave him a rhythm to scrub to.

The rag, a tattered spare cloth Lance had scrounged up, was lathered full of clean bubbles, and they left trails of glory every place Hunk swiped across his skin. Keith swore he could hear angels harmonizing in the heavens as Hunk ran his fingers through his bangs, slicking them back out of his face. The water added a fine sheen like God himself had kissed his skin, and Keith would have given anything to have been in his theoretical place.

Keith was 90% sure he was gawking like a deviant. The other 10% was him thanking the stars he had the opportunity to be there. Not that he'd admit it out loud, oh no. He still absolutely did _not_ like Hunk one bit.

He was a big enough person to admit that he was a thing of beauty, though. Anyone who _couldn't_ was a right idiot.

Not only was his face gorgeous, but he just had a certain _look_ to him. His arms were thick around, and they looked strong enough to break lumber in half without a thought, but he had a certain soft heftiness to him that Keith kind of just wanted to bury himself in.

And his _chest_. Broader than the sea; full of its own dips and curves and even softer than his arms promised. Bards would write epics about it. Unfortunately, Keith was much better with a sword than he was with a lute, and he didn't even want to think about the words he'd toss on paper if he tried. Nothing anyone wrote would ever come close to the true, unparalleled beauty that Keith was graced with that morning, though. He would bet _Lady_ in her entirety upon it.

His eyes had finally strayed down to Hunk's belly— something he wanted to wrap himself around, press kisses against, and lay on until the Grim Reaper himself came to take him during his final days— before he was interrupted by both that damned privacy blanket and a jarring snap from that damned Lance's fingers.

"You good over there, navigator? You're all red around the gills." Lance's grin stretched wide across his face, and Keith could hear the implied teasing. _'See something you fancy?'_

Keith flipped him off.

Lance rolled his eyes, lifting up yet another pair of trousers to measure it against the bathing Hunk. "Perfect!" He tossed it over his shoulder, in the small pile of what Keith assumed was clothes he wanted Hunk to try.

"Once you're finished up there, we'll get you all dolled, love." Lance plopped onto the bed, handing off the second bucket to Hunk when he gestured for it.

He then proceeded to wolf-whistle as the latter dunked clean water over his head, rinsing away the suds. Hunk flushed an embarrassed red that was barely visible on his dark skin, but it was endearing all the same.

Keith was positively smitten.

Hunk took it all in stride, if he even noticed how much Keith had melted on his stool. He quickly toweled off, and had just begun to pat-dry his hair when Lance squawked in outrage.

"I completely forgot about your hair!" He jumped up and began to dig around his pockets. "After all that trouble I went through to find you— where is it..." He coiled his arms around himself, checking every single one of his million pockets, until finally he produced a long, orange tie. "Ta-dah!"

He shoved Hunk to sit down (after first allowing him to slide on his new trousers), gathering supplies as if this were a well-practiced occurrence. Scissors, usually only used for gauze, a few oils, and Lance's own personal comb were shoved in Keith's hands as he was rudely recruited with a, "Help me out here, will you?"

He couldn't really complain when Hunk turned his appreciative gaze towards him. "Thanks, Keith."

Shit, he was in deeper than the sea could pull him.

Lance got to work, easily flipping between combing tangles Hunk had long given up on and prodding at Keith's ego. None could work knots, both hair-wise and of a rope, like Lance could. Split ends were cut, and a dash of oil on Hunk's roots had his hair preening under the attention. It was quickly tied up in a high ponytail, loose enough to allow a few strands to frame his face. The orange headband came into play, then, to wrap around his forehead and securely knot in said ponytail. A two-for-one accessory.

Lance circled around Hunk for one last glance over, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear before tossing him a thumbs-up. "Perfect as always."

Hunk laughed, carefully pulling his new shirt over his equally new hairstyle. He had to admit, it was very comfortable and very out of the way. Two things he knew that Lance knew that he preferred when it came to hair. The only reason he had let it grow so long was _because_ of Lance, in the first place.

A long mirror, not necessarily body-length, was balanced in front of him as he stood, and he was nearly blinded by how different he looked in a proper pair of pants. His overalls, secondhand (or third— maybe fourthhand?), had never done much to flatter him, and were a stark contrast to his new look.

The legs of his pants were folded up until his mid-calf, and his shirt— a soft, creamy white color— was tucked in and buttoned most of the way up. His new headband added a touch of color that really helped to brighten his entire being.

Overall, and in many less words, he was pleased with the outcome.

Before he knew it, Lance had been tugged into the tightest hug of his pirate-life.

"Love you too, big guy." He gave a pained grunt, though he wouldn't have been able to wipe the grin off his face for the world. "Now, let's go find you some work."

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

They emerged on the top deck, Keith unwillingly dragged along by an exuberant Hunk. They’d been below for _hours_ apparently, but Keith had barely noticed a single one pass by.

Lance knocked once before sauntering into the Captain's quarter, as he always did. Shiro was, fortunately, not in any compromising position. Instead, he was signing dozens of documents with one hand, and stamping dozens more with the other.

"Can I help you, boys?"

Lance plopped on the desk, nearly knocking over an inkwell if not for Shiro's quick hand. It had happened too many times for him to admonish the other over, too.

"Is there any task we can give to our newest crewman?" Lance batted his eyelashes, as if he needed to seduce Shiro any further. "Perhaps somewhere with his best, most treasured companion?"

Shiro's eyes flickered up to Lance, and he grew a mischievous grin. "Who— Keith?"

Both Keith and Lance sputtered at that, one in embarrassed chagrin and the other in offended outrage. Hunk wisely chose not to comment.

" _Me_." Lance huffed, as if Shiro didn't already know that. Under his breath he muttered less than kind words until Shiro rolled his eyes at his dramatics.

"Of course. And what did you have in mind, Quartermaster?"

"Rigger!" He piped up. "He'll barely have to do anything, until we land or set sail again." Lance grinned at his own cleverness. "Totally easy."

"Nothing is easy." Shiro sighed, ready to throw himself in a speech he'd lectured many-a time to more than half of the crew. Lance just gave his best pleading look, the one that Shiro always fell for, and the lecture died on his tongue with a heavy sigh.

He turned to Hunk, mildly pleased at the way the latter's posture went respectfully straight when he did. "How do you feel about heights?"

"Uh..." Came the eloquent response. Hunk curled in on himself then. "I'm... not the best with those. Or looking out at the ocean, generally?" He winced at that, patting his stomach as a means of excuse.

"A seasick pirate." Shiro mused aloud, unwittingly echoing Keith flawlessly. He leaned back in his chair, mentally going over every single job he could think of.

Lance piped up, "No mopping the deck! We have plenty of swabbies." Shiro grunted in acknowledgment at that. "And no lookout. For obvious reasons."

Shiro gave him an exasperated look, and he quickly backed off. "How do you feel about gunpowder?" He tossed the question to Hunk.

"Um... unfamiliar with it, ser. But I'm good with _regular_ powder— flour, that is."

At that, Lance leaned forward to loudly whisper in Shiro's ear. "He was a baker before we kidnapped him."

Keith snorted at that, having claimed his usual nook in the corner of the room. He flipped a tiny, sewing pin of a knife in the air, hardly having to watch it to see where it landed. "Pirates don't need cakes."

"Bite your _tongue_." Lance hissed. "You've never _had_ Hunk's cooking. The most amazing creations on land and sea. I'd bet your soul on it."

"But not yours." Keith shot back.

"Yours, mine... hell— even Shiro's." Lance retorted. Shiro cleared his throat, snapping his fingers to silence them.

"We'll put a pin in that, then. Both the alimentary idea and the guns." He stood and began sifting through a stack of papers. "Surely we have something simple for him to start with." He mumbled, mostly to himself.

Hunk began to speak up, and his voice cut out on itself on his first few attempts. Damn nerves.

"If I may... ser? Uh— Captain."

Three pairs of eyes glanced over at him, and _wow_ were they intense. Hunk looked down at his toes to gain grounding and focus. "If I may, ser..." He repeated. "I would like to do the carpentry work."

Lance sputtered at that. "You want to _repair_?"

Hunk nodded his head. "I do. I'm well practiced in it, from the island. I'm not sure how different it is on a ship, but I watched Pidge's work before, and it seems fundamentally the same."

Shiro scratched at his undercut, fingering the ends that seemed to be growing back quicker every trim. "It's not easy work.

"I know, Captain. I can do it." He grew more confident the longer they went without outright laughing at his idea, spine straightening.

Said Captain mulled over his request, kicking his boots up on his desk to lean back in his seat. "Exactly how much practice have you had?"

"Years of it. On and off, I mean. I built some of the houses on the island, but those are a mix of wood and brick. I've crafted with wood, so I know how it works, generally. Oak, pine, yew... most types. Just at a glance, Lady seems to be made of White Oak? Not a very difficult type to work with, and very sturdy. One of the finer materials out there, I'm pretty sure. Not to mention the metal work I've seen around is nearly seamless, and I don't think I've seen a rusty bolt anywhere." Hunk absently praised, unaware of the impressed looks he garnered from all three other occupants. "Though, I would suggest eventually switching from iron to steel, but that would take maybe _years_ to completely exchange out, depending on how often you all stop for repairs."

He stopped to take a breath, glancing up reflexively only to let the next few words wither into a squeak as he realized he'd probably just bored them all half to death. "That's just... what I noticed."

Shiro stayed silent for half a moment longer, before linking his hands over his stomach and nodding his head towards Lance. "Find Pidge for me?"

"Aye, boss!" He grinned. Hunk already had the job cinched, he could tell. Lance popped his head out of the captain's cabin, took a deep inhale in and, at the top of his lungs, screamed, "Pidge!"

His voice rattled the windows for a hot second, and Keith threw a nearby globe at his back. Lance flipped him off without looking, and Hunk hurriedly picked up the globe and set it on Shiro's desk after giving it a cursory once-over.

From the top of the mast, Pidge stuck her head over the lookout's nest and, in exactly the same tone as Lance, yodeled back, "What?!"

"Cap'n wants ya!" Lance motioned her down. "Hurry up, Birdie!"

She grumbled under her breath the entire way down, swinging from rope to rope like she was born to do it until she had to slide the mast the rest of the way down.

Once she was close enough, she hooked her arm around Lance's head and tugged him down to her height, digging her knuckles into his scalp. He cried out, trying to slap her away, and the both of them easily collapsed into a mess of snorts and giggles.

It ended when Lance picked her up and swung her around, nearly kicking Keith over from his seat. The latter pirate barked out a yelp as he slapped away Pidge's feet, and they had just begun descending on him when Shiro sharply whistled, catching their attention.

" _Stop_ that. You're going to mess up my stuff." He cracked a grin at Keith's exasperated look. "Come over here Pidge, and examine your new underling."

Pidge perked up at that, hopping out of the jumbled mess that was Lance and half of Keith, skittering over to check Hunk out.

"What's the newbie gonna do?"

"He'll be a new carpenter."

Pidge whistled appreciatively. "You any good?"

Hunk glanced over to Lance, who gave him two thumbs up. "Yes."

"Well, alright then. I'll take him under my wing."

"Pun!" Lance called her out, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

Hunk relaxed completely under their comfortable bickering, and he was soon led back below by his new foreman. Both Lance and Keith followed them, leaving the captain behind with his beloved paperwork, but were stopped at the door by Pidge.

"Nope! Gotta test out the new meat, and I don't need _you_ distracting him." She mostly spoke to Lance, but her eyes held a knowing look as she glanced at Keith. "I'll call you in when we're done."

They hardly got two words in before she shut the doors in the face. Lance pouted, crossing his arms like a denied child.

Keith hid his disappointment just a hair better than Lance, though he did mimic the crossing of his arms.

"Might as well go find some grub and check back later." Lance suggested. Keith tilted his head as he weighed that option versus standing in front of a closed door for who knows long as Pidge tested her new recruit.

"Yeah, alright."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we all know hunk would be a hella chef for these pirates but i wanted to try something new so,,, /dab/


	8. VIII.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, wakes up: oh i should post my chapter now so that i wont forget  
> me: forgets to post my chapter
> 
>  
> 
> honestly thank god i wake up early all the time so u guys dont get this at like alsdhhalhasdjl 8 pm

Pidge slapped an armful of various woods and tools in front of him, and quite a few tumbled off of the tiny table to clutter the floor.

Hunk regarded the pieces, picking them up with his thumb and forefinger, careful not to get a splinter. "Uh...?"

"Make me something." She instructed, pulling up a crate to sit on across from him. "Whatever you want. I just need to assess you." At his (frankly frightened) look, she held up her hands placatingly. "No pressure. It's not a trick question or anything— just go for whatever you want."

She leaned back as far as the crate allowed, crossing her arms. Then, when it seemed like Hunk was struggling under pressure, snagged a line of fibers from nearby and began to twist it. "Just, catch my attention when you're done, yeah?"

He hummed his assent, and waited a few moments longer for her to get absorbed in her rope-making to calm his nerves. He just needed to gather his bearings.

And then, once an idea struck him like lightning to metal, he was off.

First was the brief planning stage. Planks were measured rudimentarily against each other; grains felt under his adept fingers until he found the perfect wood to start with. Then, came the actual cutting.

Bits and pieces of chopped down wood flew up in the air, nesting their way in his hair. He didn't bother with picking them out though, and instead focused on having the cutouts fit perfectly together, in harmonious equilibrium.

Then came the nails. They were sprinkled this way and that, like rain on the earth; seemingly random, but predetermined in where they would land. His hammering became a beat that lulled Pidge deeper in her work, and soon she was moving on to another rope, and then another still.

A pirate nearby whistled to call them for lunch, eventually, and that was what broke Pidge out of her hypnosis. Hunk still worked away at his project, having abandoned his seat to work on sanding the sides of what seemed to be a rather large box.

She stretched her arms above her head to crack her spine back into place. Might as well bring him something to eat after he finished.

But, even when she had eaten her own meal, came back with something for him, and waited until the meal went cold, he still worked.

She clapped her hands next to his ear (when it was safe to do so. She wasn't an idiot.) to snap him out of it and toss the bowl in his lap.

"Good workers know when they need to rest their bodies." She admonished, and he gave her a sheepish shrug. "That's what Shiro says, anyway."

She plopped on the floor beside him, legs curled in a knot as she peered at his little project. "So, what is all this?"

Hunk slurped a mushy potato out of the bowl and thoroughly chewed it as he pushed all his thoughts together.

"Well, I noticed that Captain Shiro has a, uh... problem with all of his papers."

"An understatement, if I've never heard one." Pidge rolled her eyes. How someone so leader-esque could be so discordant was beyond her, but she still trusted him with her life.

Hunk smiled, the tense muscles in his shoulders releasing their hold on him fractionally. "So I built him something to keep them a little more organized."

He cracked open the large box, complete with tiny wooden hinges and an opening for a lock. "I'll need to do some metalwork to finish it completely, but... it's a start?"

A hell of a start it was. The inside, when Pidge stuck her hand in, was smoother than the outside of the Lady. He was obviously a magician with sandpaper, from what she could tell just from touch.

Not only was the wood masterfully bent and cut, but the inside was filled with thin slots separated by firm wooden planks to separate the important from the useless, with even enough room to hold small objects Shiro may have wanted to keep safe or out of the way.

She whistled. "You move fast." Came her praises, those of which she rarely gave out.

Hunk carefully closed the box, dusting off a few leftover shavings from the top. "Am I hired?"

Pidge slapped him on the back hard enough to jostle him, despite his larger frame. "No shit. You might even take over my duties here by the end of the week."

Which, was only half a joke. She _hated_ working below deck, or even with repairs in general. But it came with the job as 'maintenance supervisor' — boatswain, that was.

Hunk reached for the saw again, but she waved him off. "Nope! It's long past time for you to get out of here. Lance probably died waiting for you, and Shiro'll have my head for that already."

She offered him a towel to clean off with. "I'll find something for you to do later on. For now, enjoy your freedom before I work you to death."

Hunk grinned. "Aye, ser."

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Hunk emerged from the lower decks stretching his arms high into the sky, until he could almost feel the clouds passing through his spread fingers, curling around them like diamond rings. He smiled at his inward analogy, and took off towards the Captain's room.

He knocked softly, which garnered no response. When he knocked a little harder, he heard a muffled snort, and the distinct sound of someone falling backwards in their chair and onto the unforgiving floor.

With a sympathetic wince, he cracked open the door. "Captain? Are you okay?"

In the corner of the ornamented room, Shiro was keeled over and appeared to be laughing his guts out. At his desk (or, rather, squashed underneath it) was a groggy Lance. One could easily infer what had occurred by the way he cradled the back of his head with one hand and wiped away slobber from the corner of his mouth with the other.

Shiro, once he got his wheezing under control, quickly moved to help Lance up. "Are you alright, love?"

"My heart is torn in two at the fact you were giggling so hard. That's literally the hardest I've seen you laugh in _months_." Lance griped, rearranging the treasures around his wrist until they weren't digging into his arm any longer. "I oughta toss you to the mermaids."

Shiro pressed a gentle kiss against the back of his head, gently rubbing the mild bump that had begun to swell under Lance's hair with the ball of his thumb. "You'd miss me. And who would let you sleep in their chair if I were gone?"

Lance harrumphed and, with a teasing twinkle in his eyes, gestured over to Hunk. " _He_ would."

Hunk, being the smart human being that he was, quickly gave a two fingered salute and attempted to make his escape, before it was _Shiro_ that threw him to the mermaids.

"Wh— Hunk!" Lance whined behind him, somehow crossing the room and latching onto his arm in the half-second it took for Hunk to abort mission. "You _know_ you would give me all the chairs in the universe."

And, well... Hunk always was weak to Lance's pouty face and crocodile tears he could summon at will. "Yeah, okay. But only after you toss Shiro." He said in a stage whisper. Behind them, Shiro snorted as he sifted through pages, as he always did.

Lance let out a triumphant 'aha!' and plopped right on top of the pages Shiro was reading. "Take that."

"I'll take _something_ alright." Shiro mumbled, racy words matching his saucy grin, and _wow_ Hunk didn't know that Lance could turn that red. For a moment, the air turned heated, like an earth-oven forgotten on a humid day that grew and gathered the warmth until it was a burning hot star ready to ignite and join the moon in the sky.

Hunk cleared his throat, only barely sorry that he was ruining the moment. "I just came to, uh... tell you I made you a present. It's not done yet, but I wanted to know if you like it, and if you wanted to change anything before it was varnished."

Lance, though Hunk was obviously addressing Shiro, fluttered his lashes and made an 'oh, you' motion with his hand. "You shouldn't have, darling."

Shiro tickled his sides, nearly causing the other to drop from the desk. "Furniture?"

"Something like that." He gestured for him to follow. And then, he absently wondered if it was against pirate code to let the captain walk behind you. He really needed to learn more about that, now that he was part of the crew.

Well, Shiro wasn't smacking him in the back of the head yet, so he must not be failing spectacularly. For now.

Lance yawned behind the small group, dabbing at the corner of his eyes with the edge of his sleeve. Only just now, when he glanced over his shoulder, did Hunk noticed that he was donning Shiro's coat instead of his regular, luminescent blue one. Cute.

They circled around Hunk's little project, and he nervously fiddled with his fingers, slotting and unslotting them together until the friction heated them up.

Shiro knelt down to run his fingers across the niches. The low thump of his fingers beating against the thin wood made Hunk's stomach plummet for a second.

"You made this?"

"Yes, ser."

"In..." Shiro squinted out the porthole. "What, an hour or two?"

"Yes, ser." Hunk echoed dimly.

Lance whistled at that, dropping to his knees to peer at the workmanship. "Look at you, Hunk... I didn't think it was possible, but you've impressed me yet again in my young life."

"Thanks, Lance." Came the sincere appreciation, and the two shared a familiar smile until Shiro stood up again and squeezed his palm against the curve of Hunk's shoulder.

"You're incredible." He was praised, and Hunk preened under it much like Lance would.

"You like it?"

"I do!" Shiro assured, grin growing. "I look forward to having it in my office."

Hunk enthusiastically nodded his head. "I'll make more, if you just ask me to." He guaranteed, and he couldn't have looked happier if he were clicking his heels together and doing a little jig.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Halfway across the ship, Keith huffed as he threw away not only his food, but a plate that Lance had abandoned halfway through their meal to go mess with Shiro. Not that he was upset about it, but he hated doing other people's dirty work.

He clapped his hands free of dirt and rubbed his palms against his trousers.

In a word, he was _bored_.

His presence wasn't required on the bridge, not unless they encountered a sudden outcropping of earth or a squall began trying to sweep them away.

At this point, he was hoping for it. Just a teeny bit.

With that thought, he made a beeline for the bridge. Screw letting Shiro and Lance have their privacy.

But, of course, when he made it there, they were nowhere to be found. With a sigh that was a tad pouty, he sauntered in anyway and claimed the (fallen) chair until they came back. In the meanwhile, he'd just toss darts at the ceiling as both he and Shiro usually did in their downtime.

He snagged the darts, dulled after a year or so of them throwing them this way and that, and leaned back in the chair to regard the crude rings he'd carved into the ceiling forever ago. There were deep gouges from where they'd first learned to throw straight and accidentally took chunks of the wood down with a misaligned toss.

He'd just gotten two bullseyes in a row when the door clattered open, nearly knocking over one of Shiro's statues of some old guy that they'd 'liberated' from another ship.

Lance was clinging to Hunk’s back like a monkey, chattering at him a mile a minute about a dozen topics at once. He’d stolen Shiro’s hat at some point and slapped it over top his own, wearing both like prized crowns. If Hunk still had his own sunhat on, that probably would have been stolen as well.

It was Shiro that noticed him first, visibly perking up at the sight of him. “There’s our favorite navigator.”

“Speak for yourself.” Lance huffed, though he did toss Keith a grin. “You missed it, man… Hunk is _incredible_ with his hands.”

Keith’s eyebrows shot straight to the ceiling, eyes growing wider than the moon, and Lance choked on his laugh.

Hunk seemed hardly phased by the phrasing, though, and just dropped Lance off in a nearby plush chair. Once the latter was settled, he finessed Shiro’s hat from his head and handed it back to his captain.

“It was nothing.” He explained, though he seemed… _perky_ in Keith’s opinion. “I just wanted to show my appreciation to the Captain, is all.”

As Keith began to flush around the collar, and they could almost _see_ the cogs turning in his brain as his imagination took over, Shiro finally caught on to the miscommunication.

He didn’t try to right the error, though. Instead, he tossed an arm over Hunk’s shoulder and pulled him close with a knowing glance in Keith’s direction.

“It was such a smooth feel, too… Pliant under my fingers, but not _too_ much so.”

Hunk nodded sagely. “It’s important to reach the balance. It took lots of practice.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah! I practiced so much that my fingers were just ready to fall off.”

Lance couldn’t hold in his laughter any longer and began howling into his hands as Keith turned redder than the trimmings of his jacket. Shiro soon joined him, collapsing on the arm of the chair beside him as they poked fun at poor Keith.

It was only after Lance had slipped from the chair to grip his stomach, he was laughing so hard, that Keith realized they were just teasing him. He had half a mind to throw a few darts on them as he stomped towards the door. Shiro clasped him around the shoulder just before he could, though, and offered him a half-apologetic look.

“We were just kidding, buddy. Won’t happen again.” He promised, and all of them (including the confused Hunk) knew he was fibbing. Keith didn’t hold it against him, and let the issue drop with a roll of his eyes.

“Assholes.” He said, a fond tone hidden beneath the irritation. Lance slapped him against the thigh from his position on the floor, a few final giggles escaping him as he wiped at the corners of his eyes.

“You love us.”

“I love Shiro, and that’s only sometimes.” He rebuffed, gesturing vaguely at Hunk. “C’mere, big guy. I want to talk to you.”

Lance ‘ooh’d’ at Hunk, like he’d just gotten in trouble, and received a nudge in his ribs with the heel of Keith’s boot, which hurt just slightly less than a kick would have. As Hunk and Keith exited the room, Lance flipped the latter off just before he disappeared past the threshold.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

The sun was hanging low in the sky, painting the atmosphere in hues of pumpkin-orange and golden-yellow, shadowing clouds with the barest hint of royal purples and deep blues. It was nearing dinner time, then, and soon the air around them would be echoing with the sound of the iron bell from the kitchens that had long since passed rusted and would soon be graduating to scrap.

Keith led Hunk towards the stern, ducking underneath the riggers that had begun to release the sails, catching the wind that had begun to pick up. They had to skirt around the swabbies, and Hunk nearly slipped on the wet wood until Keith steadied him with a quick hand across his back.

Eventually, though, they found each other leaning against the gunwale in the back of the ship, glimmers of the sun catching in the waves reflecting back on them and bathing them in the final rays.

Keith rolled up his sleeves as the low humidity got to him, just above the elbow, and tied back a good portion of his hair before he turned his gaze back towards Hunk.

"How did it go with Pidge?"

"Not bad at all." Hunk mused, looking up at the sky as he leaned against the railing. "Even though I was ready to toss myself overboard the entire time, I think I did well. My hands hardly shook, even."

At the mention of them, Keith's eyes darted downwards to watch as he curled his fingers around the smooth wood, idly feeling for the grain as they sailed onward, away from the sunset.

When he realized he'd stayed quiet for a suspicious amount of time, he glanced back up towards Hunk's face and gifted him with a small, amused smile. "You would know if Pidge hated you. She doesn't much keep quiet about that."

Hunk let out a relieved sigh. "Good to know. I'll try to stay on her good side." He leaned over to rest his elbows against the perch. "Yours, too."

"Mine?"

"Of course. Technically, you were my recruiter." Hunk grinned. "Even if your methods are a little unorthodox," He said, motioning to his backside, "I basically owe you for giving me a new job. And for helping me find my friend. My _long-lost_ friend."

Keith halfheartedly shrugged at that. "It's a small world."

"It's much bigger when you don't roam the sea." Hunk offered back.

And, well... Keith couldn't find fault in that logic. Though he'd basically been born for wayfaring and sea travelling, he'd experienced being trapped on too small islands, in too small towns, with too angry people. Perhaps Hunk hadn't been around that last part, but... people are the same everywhere.

"Anyway..." Hunk continued on, "Of _course_ I would want to keep on your good side. I owe a lot to you."

Keith didn't know how to respond to that. And so, he kept silent. Hunk didn't take offense at that, though. His nonverbal cues were enough of an answer in their own right. The way he'd tilted his jaw upwards with a pleased look in his eye, and even how he'd shifted his weight from one side to the other. He was quite easy to read, actually. Hunk wondered how well he'd do in card games.

Their ambiance was light and easy, a contrast to their earlier beginning that had been full of nothing but tense air and sharp tempers. He much more preferred this.

Keith moved to match Hunk's pose, hunching over the edge of the boat to lean his elbows against her banisters. He treated her gently, as he always tried to when not at the helm. He misjudged just how close the two of them were, though, and ended up bumping his arm against Hunk's.

Yet, for some reason, neither of them moved away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keith is trying c': 
> 
> also i just want yall to know that even though this is a slow burn i am absolute shit at keeping romance in its pen, and it will probably advance faster than you expect,,,,,,
> 
> ALSO i know i say this literally every chapter but OH MY GOD THE NEXT CHAPTER!!!! its gonna be great c':


	9. IX.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warning: this is where the violence tag mostly plays in! be careful when reading**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> this chapter has m u s i c
> 
> COMPLETELY OPTIONAL, and it should definitely NOT autoplay (so if it does please tell me and i'll fix it asap), but i thought it would help set the ambiance and also this chapter is definitely a turning point and i wanted it to be as memorable as possible c':
> 
> It requires flash to run (and again, isn't required to enjoy the story)! 
> 
> and also it unfortunately does not work on mobile adhljadhslj LMAO IM SORRY! i tried my best to get it to work across all platforms but audio in fics is pretty iffy as it is

They must have stood there for hours, or perhaps time had just paused for them. Eventually, they came back towards the present when a noticeable chill ran down Keith's spine.

"Maybe we should head in for dinner." One of them had suggested hours ago, when they’d first noticed a thin blanket of fog rolling across the waters, and Keith agreed that now was a good time to go in for the night and warm up with something to soothe the butterflies in his belly.

As he turned to go back they way they'd stumbled from, hugging his arms around himself to fight back the chill, he caught sight of... _something_ in the distance that had his pace stuttering to a halt almost immediately.

Hunk bumped into him from the sudden stop, and Keith ducked towards the rails to glare into the distance.

“Keith?”

He ignored Hunk, gaze flickering through the shadows that cut across the sea. It had grown dark in the time they’d spent talking about nothing, but he was _sure_ he saw something.

Hunk must have noticed the shift in his mood, because he nervously began to bite as his lips, squinting in the general direction that Keith had fixated on.

Not only was he looking, like a tiger that zero’d in on the perfect pray, but he was also listening. Goosebumps spread across his skin, not caused by the chilly air, and he clenched his fist.

“Come on.”

Keith murmured, grabbing for Hunk’s wrist to tug him along. The latter went willingly, thoroughly creeped out by the uneasy mood.

They’d just turned the corner and began stalking towards the stairs when a shrill whistle cut through the night, followed shortly by a call of, “Incoming ship, off the starboard!” by the lookout, nestled high in the crow’s nest.

Keith muttered a curse, breaking out in a sprint. He dragged Hunk by his arm, as if he forgot to let go. Half a second after he began running, so did the rest of the crew. The sails were dropped again, and Keith shoved away the helmsman to take over. Hunk mumbled an apology for him, but the pirate had barely blinked before they were off to help with the sails.

Shiro burst out of his cabin, doors slamming hard against the wood. His clothes were rumpled, shirt untucked, and he was without most of his adornments. His coat was missing, but he still carried a sword on one hip and a gun on the other as he stalked towards the main mast.

Pidge had hopped to the lookout post after securing the sails, and she called down to him, “They won’t respond to our signals.”

Lance appeared, drowning in two coats and looking just as unembellished as his captain, to look through a spyglass.

"I can't identify the colors." The fog was much too thick to see _anything_ , besides a few feet in front of them. He passed the monocular to Shiro, calling a nearby group forward to toss a few commands at them.

The boat rocked as a wave passed under them, pushed their way by the incoming boat. It was _so_ much larger than Lady, and its mast cut through the haze quick enough to leave a clear trail behind them.

Shiro bellowed out commands to rig up the sails, and Hunk jumped to attention when he gripped him by the shoulder.

"Stick by Keith, for now. We may need you to man a gun."

Hunk snapped a quick salute even as his stomach plummeted straight to the bottom of the sea. "Yes, ser."

The captain paused, eyes searching his newest crewmember. "We'll be fine, Hunk. Lady has been through hell and survived the trip back without a scratch. She'll live through an ambush."

His shoulders straightened, and he took a firm grip of the emotions threatening to drown him, shaking them back into place. "Aye, ser."

Shiro slapped him on the shoulder encouragingly, shoving him towards the helm. "Try not to fall off the side."

And then he was gone, disappearing in the endless tornado of people that appeared on deck, seeming to know exactly where to go and what to do in this situation. Hunk wondered how common it was.

Keith was focused on navigating through the smoke, but he allowed himself a few crucial moments to cut his eyes over to Hunk, offering him a nod.

"Need a minute?"

Hunk shook his head, curling his arms around himself. "I'm good. Do I need to do anything?"

"Just stick by me. Try to see if they have reinforcements, if you can."

"Alright."

Hunk, despite his bravado, couldn't shake the ominous feeling coiling around his heart. He studied what horizon he could make out, but all he saw was a single ship, almost double the size of the Lady, filled to the brim with people who ran across the deck like ants.

He heard a sharp whistle, and yelling from both his crew and the offending crew before he saw the grappling hooks sailing towards the gunwales, parting the wood like freshly baked bread softened with warm butter and sticking in deep.

They were being boarded, and Keith couldn't catch enough wind in the sails to yank away. Not without losing half of _his_ crew in the process.

With a muttered curse, he came about. Swords clashed around him, and Hunk startled like a cat at midnight whenever there was a ragged yell and the wet spill of blood across the wood.

"What _flag_ is it?" Keith hollered towards Pidge, who'd dropped from her sails to help ferry gunpowder and cannonballs down below.

"Shades of purple, sailing master." She huffed, narrowly avoiding yet another grappling hook that sailed dangerously close to her head. "Galra."

Hunk hadn't known Keith long, but he had a sinking feeling that the brief look of horror that crossed his face wasn't normal at all.

He inched closer, stomach churning. He was _not_ going to throw up now. "Shiro said you might need me for guns."

Pidge accepted a coil of rope from a powder-monkey. "We're fine, handyman. You keep those fingers of yours tidy. I'll need them in working order for repairs."

She was off just as quickly, and Keith shoved him back as an enemy ducked towards them.

Lance was there in an instant to fight him off, first knocking him off his feet with a well aimed kick to the back and finishing him off with a bullet to the temple.

Hunk shuddered, ears ringing as Keith and Lance conversed as if nothing was wrong.

His heart was pounding so fast he was afraid it was going to break through his ribs and run away just like he wanted to. He was shaking so badly that his teeth began to rattle in his head, and he had _no idea_ how they were getting around the situation without panicking as hard as he was.

What was he doing here? Why did he think he could be a pirate? Just to be close to his long-lost friend? What a fool.

He'd just started forgetting how to breath when Keith snapped his fingers in front of him, pulling him back.

"Calm down. I won't let anything happen to you." He was back on the wheel in a moment, and Lance had disappeared sometime between then.

"Sorry." Hunk mumbled, vision clearing as he blinked away the tears that had gathered at the corners of his eyes, unbidden.

He felt like he was drowning, and he stepped uncomfortably close to Keith, as far away from the sides of the boat as possible. Keith didn't push him away, for which he was grateful, though he did shift from heel to heel.

Every so often, an enemy would stray too close, but they would be pushed back by a nearby crewman, either killed immediately before Hunk's eyes, or shoved back into the rushing crowd to be killed there. Hunk hated it.

Then, one strayed too close. And no one came to save them. Keith noticed them first, stalking forward with only a sword and a small shield, fashioned from a barrel lid and metal plating.

He shoved Hunk out of the way as the glorified knife jabbed towards them, and the two of them fell hard against the deck.

The enemy cried out something, mute to the roaring of his veins, and Hunk rolled out of the way as they tried to stomp his hand into the wood. Keith disappeared into the rushing chaos of swords and anger, and Hunk was alone for a terrifying minute.

He dodged blows, mostly out of fear and adrenaline than practiced skill, until he was pressed bodily against the rails. The left and right were taken up by paired off enemies and crewmen, and Hunk wouldn't be able to cut through without being attacked by another.

He wanted to throw up, and he was certain his face was tinged a noticeable green even in the gloom.

The pirate stalked forward, jabbing their shield in Hunk's gut to take the air out of his lungs.

They yelled something again, and Hunk desperately tried to make out the words as he collapsed against the deck, arms coming to protect his head as a barrage of kicks and punches rained down on him.

Out of desperation, he grabbed for the pirate's ankle and flipped them. It worked for a split second, and Hunk was on his feet and running away when he was grabbed by his _own_ ankle.

He fell, scraping his chin against the grain, and shrieked as the glint of steel— or maybe it was iron?—  reflected off the sconces nearby, signaling a timely death for him by sword.

The gunshot registered half a second after the body fell uselessly to the side, and Hunk had to muffle his wail as Lance came to his side, hoisting him up.

"You're okay, buddy." Lance quickly comforted, giving him a once-over, feeling for injuries with his fingers as he surveyed the area with his eyes. "You're okay."

He reloaded, cocked back the hammer of the gun, and offered Hunk a strained grin. "I must look pretty cool, huh?"

Hunk _knew_ he was trying to distract him, but damn if it didn't work. He'd rolled his sleeves up, and they were covered in scratches and quickly growing bruises, as if he'd grabbed someone and they fought back. His gun was pointed to the sky, held close to his chest, and his coats had disappeared to give focus on his tucked in, much too-large shirt and high-waisted trousers.

He'd never looked cooler. And Hunk nodded dumbly as he registered the question.

Lance brushed him off, tilting his neck up to look at the damages. "We'll get you stitched up in no time, big guy. Where's Keith?"

"I lost him." Hunk said, gesturing behind him. His voice sound faraway and idly he wondered if he'd already died and his soul was just trying to hang on to his body.

Lance opened his mouth, frown growing, when the cannon started going off below deck. He tugged Hunk low, following the gunwale towards the doors to the stairs. Along the way, he kicked down a few grappling hooks just to be spiteful.

"Try to get below? It'll be a little safer there. Just listen for the whistle of a ball cutting through the air, and duck accordingly." Lance instructed, sliding to a stop as an enemy hopped across the rail just in front of them. "Watch out."

Lance took aim, but Hunk was quicker. He hooked his arms underneath Lance's pits and tugged him up and out of the way, just as someone in the opposite direction charged towards him. Their hips hit the railing, missing Lance by inches, and they sailed over the edge towards a briny death before Hunk could blink.

Lance shot the guy in front of them anyway, even where he was held up above their head.

He fell in a heap, limp like a sack of flour, and Hunk knew he would never think of baking the same again.

"Keith!" He hollered as Hunk let him drop, patting the latter on the back as he threw up over the side. "You're okay, buddy." Lance chanted like a mantra, worrying his bottom lip. "You saved my life, Hunk. You're _okay_."

Keith appeared, licking a busted lip. In one hand he carried an impressive looking sword and his other was clenched in a bloody fist. He wiped it off on his pants leg, until it was obvious that it wasn't _his_ blood.

Hunk threw up again, and Lance smoothed his hair back so it wouldn't get caught in the crossfire.

"We're fighting them off, but they have more men. We won't get out unless I can get back to the helm."

Lance hissed, eyes darting towards the wheel. It was _swarmed_ by people, both enemies and allies, and there was no way Keith would be getting the time he needed to sail them to safety unless they cleared it out a bit.

"Understood. Try to keep yourself clear for the signal."

"Mm." Keith responded, and the two watched each other's backs as they switched places.

He pressed his hand against Hunk's back, transferring a bit of blood, but Hunk leaned into the touch anyway. "Didn't mean to abandon you, big guy. Got lost in the moment."

"It's fine." Hunk breathed. The cannons had increased in tempo, and Shiro's voice was a clear cut through the chaos, a beacon of stability that Hunk clung to with furious desperation as he calmed himself.

For a while, Keith stayed there with him. He cut back anyone who strayed too close, if they were wearing the wrong colors, and Hunk found himself sitting with his head between his knees.

Steel-toed boots passed across his vision, pure juxtaposition to Keith's leather shoes. They looked harsh and unforgiving, and felt just as much so when they slammed into Hunk's ribcage.

Keith wrestled the offender away, slashing them clean across the chest as Hunk gathered his bearings. Steel-toe had his own weapon, a gun that he kept trying to reach for. Keith kept him from doing so by cutting at his wrists every time he so much as looked towards his hip.

Lance whistled in the distance, the signal they must have been waiting for, and Keith was distracted by the familiar tune just long enough to get overrun.

He was shoved back, and his lost balance was deadly when he lost his sword in the fray.

Steel-toe took quick advantage and grabbed him by the collar, lifting him clear off his feet and slamming him back down, head first, against the solid wood.

Hunk struggled to his feet, cradling his side. Keith was dazed by the blow, and barely responded when he was lifted again and shoved towards the edge of the boat. Hunk wasn't quick enough to stop Steel-toe from hoisting Keith over the barrier and tossing him over, but he _was_ fast enough to aim a right-hook to the jaw, sending him sprawling.

Hunk was yelling, he assumed, but that could have been anybody. He lifted Steel-toe, ignoring the way the other raked his nails down his arms and ripped at his shirt, lifting him by the neck until he choked on his spit. They both screamed at each other, words swallowed by the roaring ocean, until Hunk ended it by throwing him directly overboard, just a few feet beyond where Keith had disappeared.

He stumbled, blindly reversing until his back slammed against the forecastle and the image of Keith careening over the side cemented in the back of his eyelids.

Hunk yanked his fingers through his hair, accidentally tearing the headband from his head. It was certain death for Keith, no doubt. Not only were there _cannons_ being fired in every direction, but he could well freeze in the icy blue.

He’d probably drown first.

Hunk jabbed his foot against the railing, and had just tossed half of himself over when the enemy boat shifted and began sailing in the direction it came from, tugging Lady along like an angry horse in the wild.

Hunk had no time to waste, then. He glanced over his shoulder, just as Lance cut through the crowd and made eye contact.

It took a moment for it to register what he was doing, and he saw the exact moment Lance stopped breathing, but he jumped before Lance could dart forward and grab him.

The water was cold enough that Hunk was sure his toes froze upon contact and fell off. He'd been completely submerged immediately, and it took longer for him to resurface than he'd expected. He choked on water, spitting it out like poison as he gripped the edge of the boat. Barnacles scratched at his palm, and the saltwater stung the shallow wounds like they were bone deep.

In the back of his mind, he knew his odds of finding Keith. It was dark, foggy, and the water was harsh and unforgiving. Not to mention, they'd _both_ been injured before they went overboard (though one of them went willingly).

But, for maybe the second time in his life, Hunk silenced his doubts, and dove under.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Lance screamed, hurtling himself for the edge until Shiro burst from the crowd and caught him by the back of his shirt, yanking him back. The two tumbled, falling over each other, and Lance choked on his sob as the faint splash of water reached him.

Shiro's heart stuttered— _Lance, half drowned and wrapped up so tight in ropes that his skin was burned with the markings — _and he had to clench a fist over it to get it to start pounding again. "Are you an _idiot_?"

Lance huffed, blinking back the hot tears that clawed at his eyes. "Not me. _Hunk_ is —  that... _that_..." His words dissolved into an angry flurry of his native tongue, muffled as he yelled into his palms.

“What happened to Hunk?”

“Went overboard.” Pidge interrupted, throwing a sword down in front of Lance’s curled form. “Along with Keith. Probably to go after him, actually.” She gestured towards the ship. “We’re making progress cutting ourselves free, but we’re gonna be down one helmsman and one carpenter if we don’t turn around and start looking for them immediately. I suggest lighting them up, but…” She shrugged one shoulder, passing an explosive—  a tiny, round little thing—  to Shiro.

As he closed his fist around the weapon, Lance collected himself, furiously swiping at his eyes with a leather sleeve. Wasn’t the first time a treasured crewmate had been injured in battle— wasn’t even the first time one of them had been thrown to the waves, actually— and it probably wouldn’t be the last. “Where did you even come from?”

“My mother.” Pidge snarked back, helping him to tie one of his coats around his waist.

“Alright, you little earthworm.”

Before the two of them could begin arguing, Shiro cut between them to hand Pidge back the bomb. “Don’t get too extravagant. Just enough to scare them off.”

“Aye, cap’.” She saluted, tossing the bomb up and catching it in her opposite palm as she turned on her heel. “Be ready to have us come about.” She ordered, either to Lance or to Shiro neither was sure.

Lance juggled the sword between his hands. The fighting had all but ceased around them, just as sudden as it started. They’d lost less than half a dozen men (including Hunk and Keith), somehow. The enemy had suffered not only a loss in numbers— but in pride, by the way they were needlessly trying to drag them back to whatever whirlpool they came from.

“Keep the prisoners?” Lance asked softly, eyes glazed and just barely tinged with a hint of red.

Shiro looked across the deck, barely resisting cupping Lance’s face in his palms and kissing away his pain. There would be plenty of time to do so later.

Red seeped into the cracks, and the bloody mess would be a near permanent reminder of what had happened that night. _Shiro_ would remember, even if someone got the stains up. He’d remember his crew, and that damn purple flag that haunted his memories for as long as he could remember himself.

“Have them killed.”

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Hunk had no idea which way was up. The colors of the water had merged together in his brain, until everything was a mushy grey hue that stung his retinas.

He choked on the water more often than not, and he cursed himself for his fanatical ideas. No, actually— he blamed the part of him that actually _listened_ to those ideas.

But he was already in deep, and the only way he was going to make it out again was with Keith under his arm.

Seaweed smacked him across the face, and Hunk panicked before he realized he wasn’t being attacked.

His nerves had come back strong, even before his bravado faded. He hated every moment of this, and every second was spent wishing he was back home on his boring island. He missed his soft couch, and the hole he’d accidentally stabbed into it with knitting needles. The sea was always far enough away back then to never pose a threat, other than the occasional storm that ripped sea urchins from their homes and painted them across the beach. He missed going out and gathering them up, tossing them back to the deep waters.

The surface found him, and the wind cut across his face like glass.

Lady was getting further with every ragged breath he breathed, and Hunk buoyed himself as he tried to come up with a plan.

“Crap.” He muttered. “Crap, crap, crap— _shit_.” He tested the word on his tongue. And then, louder, “ _Shit!_ ”

The word echoed around the empty air, and Hunk dove back under. His mother would have shook him senseless if she’d heard him, and he silently apologized as he tore through the ocean.

Keith hadn’t been wearing his jacket when he’d went overboard, so instead of looking for a brilliant red, Hunk look for the creamy white of his shirt. It would have to do.

Thank the heavens he knew how to swim.

And, _thank the heavens_ _for being merciful_ , he spotted the quickly sinking form of the half-drowned of the sailor without a minute even passing by.

He dove lower, hooking his arms around Keith’s waist entirely. The other jerked in his hold, panicking at both the lack of air and the unknown touch, and Hunk swam as fast as he was able, even as Keith reacted by kicking him against the shins the entire way, struggling in his hold. It barely hurt, slowed by the heavy water.

They surfaced as elegantly as fish caught in a net, flopping apart as the cold finally cramped Hunk’s muscles and Keith expelled the water from his lungs.

Their agonized breath clouded the air in front of their faces, one rubbing feeling back into his limbs and the other gathering his bearings as he nursed the sore spot on the back of his head.

When he felt his muscles weren’t about to rip, Hunk swam back over to Keith and helped to keep his head above water. Keith fell into his hold, forehead resting in the curve of his neck. The poor boy was shivering so hard his teeth chattered, and Hunk quickly gathered him up to share body heat. Not that he himself wasn’t cold, but he had the safety net of his extra body fat.

In the distance, he could see Lady slowly, _miraculously_ , turning back towards them. Plumes of smoke billowed behind her, and Hunk could have sworn he’d heard explosions, but he assumed they were just a last few warning shots from the cannons.

He focused on keeping Keith afloat and awake.

“Keith.” He tried, ignoring the twinge in his backside. His injury had been healing well, but it still was tender. He hoped he wouldn’t be out here long, or else they’d both sink all the way back down, lost to the deep.

At that thought, he kicked harder.

Keith didn’t respond, and Hunk pulled back to get a look at him. His lip looked bit into, meaning he’d probably snagged it on his teeth when he’d been slammed against the wood. But other than that and his head wound, he was alright. “Keith, look at me?”

His eyes blinked open, and it took a while for him to focus on Hunk. “H… hey.” He managed to stutter out, and Hunk pulled him back close.

“Hey. Help is coming soon, buddy. Just hang on to me until then, alright?”

Keith’s words slurred together in an unintelligible mess as his head bobbed with the waves in the water. They grew in height the closer Lady got, and Hunk had to turn his back to them so that Keith wouldn’t drown when they crashed over their heads.

Lanterns peered over the edge, illuminating the water, and Hunk yelled as loud as he could, freeing one of his arms to wave someone down. Keith slipped low in his hold, and Hunk hoisted him almost completely across his shoulder to keep his face out of the water.

Someone called out, and Lady quickly slowed to a stop. The chains of the anchor clattered noisily, and a ladder was tossed over, as close to them as possible.

Shiro himself slid down the rungs, followed by Lance. They met Hunk halfway to the boat, and Lance plucked Keith from his arms.

“Injured, coming up!” He bellowed, and Shiro helped him halfway up the later, towards the helping hands that reached out to grab him before he turned towards Hunk.

“You hurt?”

“Cold.” Hunk replied, nodding his head in thanks as Shiro gestured for him to go first.

His hands slipped on the rope as he tried to pull himself up, and Shiro had to support his legs in the water in order for him to get a good grip.

Pidge and one of her workers began to tug the rope ladder up once Shiro situated himself on the last rung, and Hunk soon found himself being swaddled in thick blankets on the deck, a lantern shoved in his hands to temporarily to warm him up just that bit more.

Once Shiro confirmed everyone (alive) was accounted for, he ordered them to sail the hell out of there.

Pidge snapped her fingers directly in front of Hunk’s nose to keep him awake. “C’mon, Magic Touch. Stay with me until we get you to the doc’, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He hummed, stumbling to his feet. Someone helped tighten the blankets around them, and another someone hooked themself under his arms to drag him towards the infirmary he called his room.

Lance was one step in front of them, worriedly peeking at Hunk over his shoulder as he shuffled Keith down below. Hunk _knew_ he’d be getting an earful after this was all said and done, and he couldn’t help the crazed grin that grew across his face. He _did_ it.

And, just as fast as the fight had started and ended, Hunk found himself cuddled next to Keith in a cot in his infirmary, desperately sharing body heat while a wood stove was shoved into the room and filled with plenty of coal.

He fell asleep between this breath and that, Lance’s trembling fingers running across his scalp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hunk is so cute. he throws himself overboard, says One (1) curse word, and then immediately apologizes for it.
> 
> the songs i used were (in order):  
> 1\. [Elephant Music — Andromeda](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HIgdw610qVg)  
> 2\. [Ethos Music — Nothing Left to Lose](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wIaYjUcCh8Y)  
> 3\. [Silent Partner - Grass](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bqAbt549bI8) (the one in the middle of the chapter)


	10. X.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so much blushing this chapter

Lance pinched the bridge of his nose, brows furrowing as he read over the reports Pidge had tossed his way. Absolutely nothing had been stolen, or attempted to be stolen, from the last debacle.

But the Galra didn’t attack for no reason. They _couldn’t_ have, because that’s not how the Galra worked. They pillaged and stole only to further their organization, not to scare off rogues.

He shuffled to another page, and barely suppressed screaming in frustration.

They were running low on supplies _again_. Stopping on Hunk’s island only barely saved them from starvation, but there were a lot of things they still desperately needed. Repair materials, food, clothes for the cooling weather. Lance felt himself being pulled in twenty different directions, kept held together only by the necklace that hung heavy around his neck. He fingered the polished pearl, rolling it between his knuckles until the chain tangled.

Before he could just rip the stupid thing off, Shiro was there to help untangle it. It had been a gift from him, after all, and he knew just how much Lance loved it, even when he was stressed beyond capacity.

“We need to stop for supplies. Again.” Lance sighed, dropping onto their shared bed. Shiro followed, allowing Lance to lean all of his weight against his side as he ensured all of his mail was properly wax sealed.

“How bad is it?”

“I’m surprised the rest haven’t revolted already. We’re out of most food except for potatoes, and even those are starting to rot.”

Shiro grimaced, but Lance continued on. “Not to mention that last battle depleted every single cache of weapons we had, besides handguns. By the end, we were shooting cutlery out of the canons.”

He was hardly exaggerating, either. They would have to buy new forks the next time they stopped, too.

Shiro stole the papers from his hand, and Lance was too stressed to try and steal them back. “We’re near a place I know. I’ll have us stop there and restock.”

He rubbed at his chin, grimacing at the prickly feel of hair growing there. “How long will that be? A week?”

“Less than a week.” Shiro swore. “In the meanwhile, you rest.”

Lance opened his mouth to argue, but Shiro pressed him back on the bed and began to unlace his boots, tugging them off with gentle kisses to his shins. “I’ll handle your work until then. I’ll need you at your best to shop for everyone, yeah?”

And well… Lance was always weak for a few well-placed kisses. “Alright.”

Shiro laid next to him, and Lance turned his face into his warmth. His lips pressed against the  swerve of his neck, and Shiro pressed a kiss just beside his temple, a few hairs away from his hairline. They hadn’t laid together like this since… before they’d scooped Hunk up from his island. He missed his captain.

He’d need to steal his attention more often.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Half a week later found the Lady full of pissy pirates and empty barrels. Everyone was grumpy and antsy, itching for solid ground beneath their feet and a warm meal in their bellies. More often than not, the Captain had to break out fights in the mess hall when one pirate felt another was eating too much, or someone suspected theft from the storages.

That was on day two. Three to go.

Hunk had woken long before Keith, nearly 12 hours before, and had kept himself from getting too anxious by working on his little chest project for Shiro.

He'd added a few drawers instead of just having a large open space to the side of the box, and had gouged out a few even layers of wood around the box for the metal he would eventually add. He didn't think it would be safe to work with that while he was in an infirmary, anyway.

It was coming along great, though, and he idly wondered if anyone else would want one. Lance probably had many jewelry boxes stuffed to the brim, but maybe he could use one more. And Pidge seemed like the type to always hide things across her room instead of one spot, so maybe she'd like a junk drawer to toss things in whenever she stopped in her room during the day.

And Hunk, admittedly, knew little about Keith's habits. But he couldn't just make some for the rest of the gang and not include him, so _of course_ he added another to the list. He'd need to think of something to add to each to make them more personalized, but that was something to plan for another day.

He scrounged up a few papers from around the room, and a piece of charcoal that was probably meant to be for fire. He sketched a few ideas, every so often wiping the build up of black dust on his fingers against his thigh. One he made taller rather than wide, to hold Lance's long necklaces without them getting tangled. Another he left holes in the top, for tools to poke through so Pidge could just grab them whenever she needed, instead of having to open the entire thing and accidentally stab herself with nails or serrated edges.

Keith's he had the most trouble with.

Papers sat crumpled around him, and he eventually had to break free of Keith's cuddling to sit on the floor, so that he wasn't coating the other in charcoal dust every time he frustratedly threw his hands up in the air.

Once he’d broken his writing utensil to dust (completely by accident), Hunk decided to distract himself some other way. He’d figure out something for Keith later.

Lance checked in on him every so often, talking about nothing and everything to his best friend as he chewed his fingernails until they were stubs. Hunk distracted him as best he could while forced under bedrest by the quartermaster, but he couldn’t stop Lance’s nervous habits no matter how funny his jokes were.

On his third visit, he’d snaked his hands in his pockets and surprised Hunk with his headband. It was mended in places where it had gotten frayed in the fight, but it looked much better with the added love, in Hunk’s opinion.

Lance tied it back in place and pressed a kiss against the knot. “Don’t lose it this time.” He’d said, and Hunk swore that he would keep it safe for as long as he lived.

Keith woke after Lance’s hundredth visit, missing him by minutes. Hunk was still littered with charcoal markings— which Lance had teased him for, and then promptly forgot to help him clean off— and that was the first thing Keith noticed about him.

The _second_ thing was that he was topless, wiping sweat from his brow with his dirty shirt as he killed the flames in a nearby fireplace.

Keith wiped at his tired eyes, picking away dried sleep. He stayed laying down, face pressed deep in the hard mattress as he tried to clear his foggy mind. The sun filtering through the porthole, bathing the doctor’s quarters in a joyful light, told him it was near midday, but the restlessness that coursed through his veins told him it had been a while since he was out of bed.

A noticeable dip in the mattress had him peeling his eyes open again, only to come face to face with the wide expanse of Hunk’s back as the other tiredly sat down. Stretch marks painted across his back like a horizon, some darker than his skin that ran thick, and others that were a softer tan, thin like lightning strikes.

Keith reflexively shut his eyes as Hunk sprawled across his half of the bed, listening to the way Hunk muffled his yawn in his palm, stretching until his shoulders popped. The thin mattress curved under his weight, and Keith couldn’t help but roll towards him.

There was a faint, surprised noise above his head, but Hunk did nothing other than that. His arms were kept uncomfortably stretched above his head, to keep from elbowing Keith in the face, and the pirate pressed his cold nose against the soft skin exposed there.

Hunk laughed, curling his hands behind his head as he followed the pattern of the ceiling. Keith was a lot more docile when he was sleepy, and it was such a strange juxtaposition to the volatile boy who’d _shot_ him, that Hunk couldn’t help but be fond of the change in pace.

Keith shifted his legs up, knocking his knees against Hunk’s, and the slight motion had the other hissing in slight pain.

The doctor had told him he’d probably always have a faint twinge of pain, seeing as he didn’t stay off his injury completely during the most crucial part of the healing process, but Hunk couldn’t say that he was terribly upset about the news. He’d been more worried about Keith being permanently damaged from drowning than his own ass.

He sighed, letting one of his legs fall off the bed to swing freely. A soft hum built up in his throat, and the rumbling timbre soon had Keith drifting off to sleep again, though he hadn’t meant to.

A warm hand curled around him, resting across his back to tug him close enough that he took up the space in the pit of Hunk’s arm completely, and he couldn’t say that he minded.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Hours later, the sun hid itself behind thick clouds, persistent beams pushing through the vapors to bath Lady in yellow ombres. Keith woke first this time, face still buried in Hunk's warmth just as when he fell asleep. When he realized this, he, for some reason, didn't immediately move away for personal space.

No, instead he snuggled _closer_ like the lovesick fool he was.

He liked it there, even if the bed was uncomfortable, and he had a crick in his neck from being in such an awkward position for what... four hours?

He let himself bask in Hunk, who stayed deep asleep. His chest rumbled with his snores, but Keith couldn't find an irritated bone in his body about it. Stiff cotton bedsheets crumbled around his fingertips as he brought his hand up to rest near his head, just above Hunk's heart, and he softly tapped his thumb to the rhythm. His face was flamed— he just _knew_ it was— and he hid his demure smile against the warm skin.

Of course, he didn't want to wake Hunk. Not when he was in a position such as this.

Not when his heart was beating so heavily, it might pop out of his throat.

So, eventually, he forced himself to stop and to pull away from the embrace. The other hard part was finessing his way over Hunk's sleeping form to sit on the _other_ side of the bed, instead of being squished against the wall.

Familiar red boots peeked at him from beneath the bed, and he leaned over to grab them and stuff them on his feet, wiggling his toes against the toe cap. The leather was worn from years of use, smooth against his big toe, and almost dangerously thin. They were a bit damp inside from his impromptu dive, and he mentally reminded himself to find some socks later.

His fingers came to the back of his head, rubbing at a few tender spots there. He could _feel_ a bald-spot, hidden under his messy mane, and he knew Lance would probably tease him about it if the sharpshooter ever got word of it. It felt raw, and a bit swollen, and Keith was honestly just glad he hadn't spilled his brains across the deck from the blow. He didn't even mind that it would probably leave an ugly scar, raised and bumpy. It'd be hidden by his hair or his hat anyway.

Speaking of his hat— the tricorn-styled accessory hung across the bedpost. He reached for it, fingering the dull, red fringe around the outer edges, and a sentimental feeling washed over him. It was even older than his shoes were, and Keith didn't know _how_ he hadn't lost it with how many battles they'd been; how many times he'd been tossed over. It always found a way back to him.

Keith decided to forgo it for the day, to let it airdry back in its correct shape.

Behind him, Hunk mumbled something, words heavy with sleep. Keith blindly reached back to pat away his worries, rubbing at a bruise across his own chest with the other. It had already begun to fade after however long he'd been stuffed in the infirmary, but it still throbbed with a dull ache when he pressed down on it.

After a quick inventory of himself and his new injuries, Keith stood. His bones still shivered as if they were dipped in ice, a side-effect he was intimately familiar with, but the feeling dissipated with a quick walk around the dying embers in the wood stove.

His coat he found strewn across the back of a chair, turned inside out near said stove to help it dry faster, and he decided to leave it alone for now. It was already quite stuffy in the infirmary already.

With nothing else to put on, he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed again. Hunk had rolled into his vacated spot, stretched out straight in the middle of the bed, and Keith sat beside him with one leg curled up on top of it and the other dangling freely.

The charcoal still dusted his cheeks, and Keith reached forward to wipe away the powder. It stained his fingers, as he probably should have expected, and he did little more than spread it further across the brown skin.

He glanced around to find something else to wipe the dirt off with, and knocked over the carefully stacked papers resting against the nightstand. With a muttered curse, he wiped his fingers clean on his pants and began to gather up the parchments, careful not to smudge the careful lines.

The designs staring him back in the face weren't exactly intricate, but he could almost feel the passion radiating off of them. He was surprised by the dexterity some of the lines must have required, and he quickly put the sketches back in place, lest he ruin the hard work.

When he sat up straight again, half kneeling in front of the bed, brown eyes startled him stagnant. They were half-lidded, blinking slow, and Hunk was half buried in his pillow.

Keith stared back, almost hesitant, and Hunk offered him a kind smile. "Morning."

"Afternoon." He replied, gesturing to the window. "Evening, almost."

Hunk made a low noise, pushing off the bed to sit straight. "Night, then." Came the tease, that confused Keith more than it probably should have. "Did you just wake up?"

"Basically."

The air clung to Keith's skin, and he nervously scratched at it. "Do you know how long we've been out?"

"This morning, I was told it's been about two days." He looked to the porthole, raking back his bangs. "Three now, I suppose. I didn't mean to sleep it away."

Keith shrugged his shoulders. "Me neither." Then, as Hunk swiped tiredly at his eyes and yawned wide, "You've got a little something..." He gestured vaguely across Hunk's face.

The latter scratched at the charcoal dust. "Here?" He tried to rub away the spots with the heel of his palm, and succeeded mostly. The corners smudged further towards his eyes, though, and Keith cut in with a soft, "Let me."

He gathered up his sleeve and climbed back across the bed. Hunk leaned back at the sudden movement, but dipped forward again when Keith gestured for him. His bottom lip was nervously sucked into his mouth, and he chewed at it as the cloth swiped across his face in gentle, circular motions.

Soon, Keith's sleeve was dirty enough to stop progress, and he switched arms for the other half of Hunk's face. These marks specifically need a firmer hand, and he inched closer with a determined look upon his face, lost in the motions.

Hunk watched him, eyes trying to focus on both of Keith's at once, though the latter hardly noticed his efforts. He was forced to abandon it, though, when the sleeve strayed too close. It ran across his eyelashes, and he reflexively fluttered them shut until it swiped back towards his cheeks.

When he opened them again, Keith was staring at him. He seemed… dazed? And he’d left his arm partially raised, fingers curled around the cuff of his sleeve absently, thoroughly stained dark.

He was… unfairly attractive. Not that Hunk didn’t already know that, but he was nearly _blinded_ by how amazing Keith looked when they were this close together. He felt himself getting tugged in by it, especially when Keith leaned forward, to meet him halfway.

Their foreheads collided, and Hunk’s face felt dangerously warm just from the gentle touch.

He swallowed heavily, peeking at Keith between his lashes. Mesmerizing eyes stared back at him, intense in every way. Somehow, his fingers tangled with Keith’s against the bed, only half separated by the sheets that somehow got in the way.

Keith opened his mouth— probably to say something, or to tell him to let go— but he promptly shut it again to instead allow his eyes to fall closed. His eyelashes tickled Hunk’s cheeks, they were so close together. If Hunk tilted forward just a bit more, angled his head just a bit higher, their lips would brush across one another.

At that thought, Hunk’s chest grew full and heavy until his heart threatened to burst and bleed corny words that would have the both of them cringing where they sat. His subsequent breath had his ribcage shuddering under the pressure.

He wanted to say something— anything that would lessen the heat in his belly— but words escaped him. He felt frozen, melted and steamy, all at once.

Keith pulled away, sitting back on his haunches, and the moment was gone.

“All done.”

Hunk jerked himself back, lifting his fingers to his cheeks with an awkward laugh. “Ah, yeah.” He watched as Keith slid a few inches back, subtly avoiding eye contact, and Hunk mumbled a soft, “Thanks.” into his palms.

“Don’t mention it.” Keith said, and Hunk wasn’t sure if he was talking about the almost-kiss or not. He didn’t have the confidence, or the heart-strength, to ask.

Instead, he let his hand drop dangerously close to where Keith’s was on the bed, swallowed heavy, and turned to watch the door as if it were the most mesmerizing thing he’d seen in his life.

“About… what happened.” Keith’s tensed fractionally, and Hunk’s heart began to race all over again as he scrambled to clarify. “In the fight.”

“What about it?”

He chanced a glance at Keith, who met his gaze full on. He didn’t look upset at the topic, so Hunk gathered his wits and continued on.

“I… was scared when I saw you go overboard.” Came the confession. “Terrified, really. I thought I would never see you again.”

Keith sucked in a breath, and the only reason Hunk heard it was because they were so close together.

“I guess I just want to say that I’m glad you made it out okay.”

Keith’s eyes kept him firmly rooted in place— or maybe that was his nerves— until they softened and a warm palm reached out for him. “Thanks for saving me.”

Hunk met his hand in the middle, and the grip around his fingers wasn’t as tight as he was expecting. They cupped him securely, enough to send a pleasant tingle down his arm, and were dry compared to his sweaty palm.

“It’s— You’re welcome.”

He didn’t need to see himself to know that he had a dopey grin on his face, or that his cheeks were dusted a pleased red.

Keith’s eyes trailed across his features for a few seconds longer, lips curving into a barely-there smile. He stood, stretching his arms high above his head, and if he were a few heads taller he would probably be grazing the ceiling with the tips of his fingers.

The moment was gone, maybe, but Hunk might have liked the one afterwards, too.

“I’m going to go see if Shiro has any news.”

Keith gathered his bearings, raking his fingers through his hair and tying it back with a nearby length of ribbon.

When Hunk stayed prone on the bed, Keith quirked his brow up. “You coming?”

“Oh!” Hunk shot out of bed, flailing around to find his shirt. He nearly stubbed his toe as he hooked his shoes on, and he pointedly ignored the way Keith muffled his laugh. “Right behind you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're both saps and they should (not) be ASHAMED
> 
> i love them


	11. XI.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof im so sorry about this bein a little late in posting! i got hella distracted with thanksgiving that i barely even touched the internet until just now! 
> 
> hope you enjoy! this chapter was super fun <3

Emerging on deck, the pair found themselves in the middle of a bustling band of pirates. They were full sail, shooting across the water, and everyone seemed electrified by restless energy.

They were swarmed by nearby crewmen who extending their well-wishes and gave them jovial pats on the backs, congratulating their health. Keith grunted under the attention, crossing his arms and hunching inward to avoid the small talk. Hunk was much more receptive, offering his hand to all and shooting back at them large smiles.

"We throwing a party?" Lance peaked through the numerous bodies, and his entire being seemed to brighten when he spotted Hunk. Quickly, lest they get more work shoved on them, the sudden pirate group hug dissipated. Lance picked up the slack easily, wrapping himself around Hunk as was their norm.

"Good to see you, too, buddy."

“You don’t even know.” Lance squeezed him tight. An unspoken, ‘I was worried about you.’ drifted between them, and Hunk responding accordingly by lifting him up and spinning him around.

“Keith wanted to check and see if the Captain had any news.”

Lance grimaced, nose upturning as Hunk dropped him back to his feet. “He should be in his study, still.” He said, vaguely gesturing behind him. “We’re stopping off at some elusive island he’s dead set on. Meanwhile the crew starves to death.” Lance lamented loudly, collapsing in a dramatic heap in Hunk’s hold.

“I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.” Hunk offered.

At that, though Hunk was pretty sure he didn’t realize it, Lance grew a fond look, his entire face softening.

They dropped Lance off on the way to the Captain’s quarters, at his request.

“I’ve had enough kisses for one day.” he’d said, only to burst out laughing at the incredulous look Hunk threw his way. “I’m kidding! He’s gonna want to see how you two are doing, and I’m just a distraction. Plus, I haven’t messed with Pidge today.” He left with a blown kiss and a quick ruffle of Keith’s hair, to the latter’s chagrin.

Once inside the office, Shiro greeted them with genuine surprise.

“I wasn’t expecting you back on your feet until after we land.” Was the first thing he said, pulling Keith in for half a hug while he tossed papers aside with the other. He cleared away the two chairs he kept in front of his desk, and Keith helped him to carry an old treasure chest to a corner.

“You don’t know me as well as I thought you did.” Keith teased, slapping his palm against his shoulder.

Shiro turned to Hunk, gesturing him closer once he realized he was still awkwardly standing in the doorway. “Glad to see you’re feeling better, too, Hunk. Sit?”

Hunk plopped into the offered chair with a grateful smile. “Thank you. I’m just glad I was able to help Keith.”

“You sure did save his life.” Shiro said, more so at Keith than at Hunk. By the way Keith awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck, whatever silent message he was trying to send got across clearly. “Well, it’s nice to know that you two have moved passed the… ‘shooting incident’ completely.”

“Hardly remember it.” Hunk shrugged, ignoring the way his thigh ached whenever he shifted in his chair.

The two continued their small talk, Shiro climbing upon the desk as Keith stole his chair to play darts. As time went on, Hunk’s shoulders relaxed, and his smile grew bright and true, even when Shiro told one of his corny jokes that had Keith groaning.

Eventually, when Keith was ready to tear his hair out after Shiro told the joke about the pirate learning the alphabet, they were interrupted by a knock on the door and a mess of brown hair poking in.

“Ah, Pidge! What’s the news?”

“Lance won’t leave me alone about the food situation.” She said, claiming the last free chair in the room. She almost sat on an octant, though the knobs did dig into her skin before she noticed it, and promptly threw it at Shiro when he laughed at her. “We’ll be arriving by tomorrow, but if you let me set up an extra mast like I want, we could get there by the end of the day.” She needled, hopeful grin growing.

“You and I both know Lady can’t withstand that extra weight. Not to mention we don’t have the materials.”

She sighed, throwing herself back in her seat until she was crumpled. “Well, atleast get Lance off my back. I won’t be responsible for anything I may do if he asks me how many ways we can split a single potato anymore.”

“Noted.”

“Where are we stopping?” Hunk cut in, then, when realized that might have been a bite rude, “If I may ask?”

“Of course you may.” Shiro confirmed, reaching behind him into his desk. He braved the depths of his endless drawer, risking the threat of paper cuts and being stabbed by letter openers. However, after an anxious minute of searching, he pulled out one of his smaller maps and slapped it on the surface in front of them all. The other three crowded around, and Shiro traced a path around a few islands before tapping a tiny little thing in the middle of the ocean.

“It doesn’t have any name I’ve heard of, but it’s a well-known hotspot for other ships of our caliber.”

“Pirate ships.” Pidge corrected, and Shiro rolled his eyes.

“ _P_ _irate ships_ , yes.” He pointed to an open spot on the ocean. “We should be about here, so we’ll be there by late tomorrow, as Pidge said. It’ll have everything we need, and, if the ocean isn’t feeling vengeful in the next few hours, we won’t starve to death trying to get there.”

“Always a plus.”

Shiro ignored any other interruptions Pidge cut in with. “The problem is, most of the materials we need are outside of the… generally sanctioned upon area.”

Hunk blanked out on that one, and Shiro quickly elaborated, “An area for pirates by pirates, basically. We don’t have to worry about being arrested or other trifles like that while we’re there. But we need more than just potatoes and milk. We need repair supplies; clothes. Even a few more crewmen, but that’s not a priority.” Shiro listed off. “Most of which would be find _outside_ of the beach and more inland.”

He flipped the map back in the drawer and pulled out another, more detailed one of the island. “We need to stop by this town, here.” He pointed to a mess of winding roads. “Unfortunately, militia run heavy here. Especially near the taverns.” He mused aloud, walking his fingers across the island towards a red ‘x’. “Which is why we need a small team.”

At that, _everyone_ stared at him blankly. “A small team that generally _doesn’t leave the ship_.” He hinted, heavily.

Pidge caught on first, and she quickly stood. “Well. I think I heard my men calling for me.”

“Thanks for volunteering, Pidge.” Shiro grinned, ruffling her hair.

“Shit.” She cursed under her breath, before she sighed heavily and plopped back down. “Why can't  _Keith_ go?”

“He is.”

“ _Shiro_.”

“C’mon, Keith. All you have to do is go down a list, and you’ll be done before you know it. Then, we’ll be back on open seas and you’ll probably not have to step a foot off Lady unless we get attacked again.”

“ _Until_ we get attacked again.” Pidge added, creepily waggling her fingers in his face. Keith shoved them away, and Pidge snorted when she laughed. He crossed his arms, an anxious flow coursing through him as he bounced his leg against the floor.

“You know I’m not good at haggling.”

“We have enough coin to pay full price.”

Keith grunted, falling back in his seat. There went his entire argument.

On the other side of the desk, Hunk frowned. Merchants often jacked their prices unfairly high, to gain much more profit than they generally needed. Often times, travelers wouldn’t even notice— and if Shiro was allowing them to pay _full_ _price_ for these items, they must have been desperately needed.

“Can I go?”

The conversation hushed around him, and he felt himself flush as the attention was turned to him.

“I… was always good at haggling. I don’t mind going with Keith. Or, instead of him, I guess? But there’s no way I can let us just waste money like that.” Hunk grimaced, shaking his head. “That’s like buying an entire cow when you only need a cup of milk.”

“Lance would… _love_ that analogy.” Pidge said, snorting as Shiro unsuccessfully tried to muffle his own giggle. “But I don’t think it’d be a good idea for such a… fresh pirate as yourself to go by himself.”

“Lance could go with me?” Hunk tried, hopefully. At the shake of Shiro’s head, his shoulders dejectedly dropped.

“He’s been seen before. It can’t be him, or me even.” Shiro said. “We’ll be leaving the boat, of course, but we can’t go any further than the outskirts of town, and even _then_ we’d be pushing it.”

“Oh, if _only_ there was someone here who could go with you.” Pidge said, draping herself across the chair. “Someone who’s been generally _unseen_ and can _blend in with a crowd_.”

“If only.” Keith said, dry as gunpowder.

Which was how the two of them, Keith and Hunk, found themselves playing dress-up.

Hunk was enjoying himself, digging through an old trunk of Shiro’s. He’d found fine clothes that had been ripped but could easily be mended, and silky bandanas he could use to cover his head. The shoes were a tight fight, so he had to use his regular pair, but when he stepped in front of the mirror, he could hardly recognize himself.

His regular orange bandana was replaced with a shiny gold fabric. When he’d pointed out how flashy it was, Shiro shrugged his shoulders and said, “Brings out your eyes.” Then, he elbowed Keith, who was trying to decide between a new pair of gloves or his old, trusty pair. “Right, Keith?”

Keith responded with a half-lidded glare and a grunt, but Hunk took it as a ‘yes’, by the way he darted back and forth between Hunk’s eyes and his new accessory. He wasn’t sure if anyone else noticed, but Keith minutely relaxed in his chair at the exchange, a soft, barely there smile across his lips.

Hunk kept the bandana.

A large overcoat added itself to his ensemble; a deep, neverending black in color with even deeper pockets. It fit him perfectly, falling just above his knees. He decided on a hat similar to their Captain’s, three-pronged but with no trimmings.

The pants were a hard find, and the pair he decided upon were a tight fit, but they didn’t rip no matter which way he moved, so that was probably as good as he was going to get. Like most of his outfit, they were dark in color— darker than chestnut— and they tucked into his slightly scuffed boots easily.

He’d decided not to borrow any jewelry, though. He’d feel awfully guilty if he accidentally lost anything.

On the other side of the room, Keith barely changed his regular look. He’d decided on the new gloves, and switched his regular coat for a plain, black one, such as Hunk’s. He _wanted_ to wear some sort of hood, but Pidge veto’d that as soon as he’d picked out a cloak.

“You’ll be so suspicious, running in town _out of the docks_ wearing a cloak that entirely hides your face. That’s like… the opposite of being unnoticed.”

He just rolled his eyes, and she slapped the cloak out of his hands, instead helping him tie back his hair to stuff it in his hat.

Once the _outfits_ were chosen, the four of them sat down to help divide up what they were each going to buy. They may have jumped the gun a bit, getting dressed so early when they had two or so days to go, but nobody brought it up when they saw the pleased looks Hunk gave himself in the mirror at his new ensemble.  


∾∾∾∾∾

 

The list took… much longer than any of them thought it would. Most of the products they needed could only be found _in_ town, which was nearly two pages passed off to Hunk and Keith. They would need to rent a wagon to carry it all, no doubt.

They had to find pictures or describe everything they wanted in great detail, and Pidge wrote down all of the most important things they _desperately_ needed. Those were what they needed first, but that would require them walking back and forth across the island _over and over_ again. Keith wasn’t looking forward to it.

Hours later, they finished. Thank the stars.

Hunk leaned back heavy in his seat, groaning so loud that the rest laughed at him. Pidge rolled up the parchments and stuffed them in her pocket for safekeeping until the time came, and to look them over in her spare time.

“Me too, Hunk.” She nudged him as she slipped past his seat. “I’ll let you know if I change the list, boss.”

Shiro sent her off with a silent nod, and the door closing was oddly loud in the subsequent silence without her. The Captain soon sunk into his usual rhythm of reading and signing documents, tapping his boot against his desk as he worked.

Keith had long since changed back into his regular look, and was raking the tangles out of his hair. Every so often, when he presumably ran his fingers across his healing wound, he would twitch and his eyes would drop shut until the blast of pain would pass.

Hunk idly wondered if Steel-toe ever got rescued.

“You alright there, Hunk?” Shiro asked, barely even looking up from his stamping. “You’ve got a sour-look across your face.”

“Oh, uh… I’m fine.” He straightened his spine. “Maybe a little hungry. Are you two hungry? I’m _starving_.” Hunk stood, slipping behind the room divider to change back into his regular clothes.

“I’ll eat later.” Shiro mumbled, distracted.

“I could bring you something from the kitchen, if you’d like?” Hunk offered, untying his fancy headband to replace it with his favorite, orange one.

“I appreciate it, but I’m alright.” Came the reassurance, and Shiro paused to stretch his arms above his head. “Keith, when’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

The resulting silence was all the answer they needed, and Keith flushed an embarrassed pink at their teasing laughter.

Hunk emerged from behind the divider, folding his sleeves to his elbow before he sauntered up to Keith and bowed at the waist. He held out his palm for the other with a flourish and, with a very wide grin, said, “May I?”

Keith reflexively took the offered hand. “What?”

“Feed you.” Hunk gestured towards the door. “I don’t think I’ve seen you eat since _before_ our… bed rest.”

Keith floundered in his seat for a moment, in a completely endearing way, fingers still curled in Hunk’s palm.

“Is that alright?”

“Yeah, that’s— I’d like that.” Keith said, softly.

Hunk beamed under the acceptance, pulling Keith forward to hook their elbows together.

The two of them completely ignored Shiro’s knowing grin as they passed, though Keith did let out an embarrassed noise when Shiro cleared his throat. He quickly tugged Hunk along, and he deliberately slammed the door as he heard Shiro laugh.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

The kitchens were busy when Keith and Hunk made their way down, but a space was cleared for the two of them to mess about as they pleased once Hunk asked.

“Don’t burn the boat down.” The Chef had said, and the other pirates had laughed, as if it were an inside joke. Hunk was a bit afraid to ask.

Currently, he was busy washing rice as he watched Keith try (and fail) not to tear up while peeling and chopping onions.  

The _chop-chop_ of his knife hitting the cutting board helped to lull Hunk back into the familiar motions of cookery. While the smells of the kitchen weren’t exactly as clean and fresh as he was used to, the underlying scent of spice was just as homey.

Which was why he didn’t notice the soft humming he started, the remnants of a long forgotten lullaby sung to him by his extended family forever ago. As he rinsed the rice one last time before transferring them to a big pot, he was smacked in the face with a wave of nostalgia.

The chopping stopped, and with it, the humming. The two caught eyes, and Hunk shot him a quick, albeit sad, smile.

“Hungry?” He asked.

Keith shrugged his shoulders, “A bit. Thanks for cooking.”

“My pleasure.” Hunk assured, sliding closer to him to inspect the onion pieces. “You sure are handy with knives.”

As if to show off, Keith flipped the sharp knife around his fingers as if it weren’t even a solid object. “I’ve practiced my whole life.”

For some reason, the idea of a small baby holding a knife popped into his head, and Hunk hid his laugh by salting the cuts of chicken left on the counter.

Keith didn’t seem to notice. “What are you making?” He hopped up on a clear spot on the counter, crossing his legs at the ankle. With his wrists, he swiped at his eyes to get rid of the lingering sting of the onion.

“Chicken and rice soup, basically. Simple, but filling.” Hunk spouted off, as if he’d said that same phrase a million times before. “I hope you’ll like it. It’s just for me and you.”

He couldn’t see Keith’s face as he focused on seasoning the poultry perfectly, but Keith felt his heart grow entirely smitten for reasons he himself had no idea why. A sappy, mushy smile stretched his lips so wide that his jaw hurt, and he pulled his legs onto the counter to hide the embarrassing look against his knees.

His heart thudded against his skin, and he was _almost_ angry at it. Who falls in love just because someone cooks a homemade meal for them?

Keith, apparently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TODAY HUNK'S VLOG CAME OUT AND I'VE NEVER BEEN HAPPIER IN MY ENTIRE LIFE
> 
> this week was great man,,,, i hope y'all enjoy the next chapter b/c it was literally my favorite one to write and it's very self-indulgent and also its where shit starts getting Real
> 
> see you on saturday!


	12. XII.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a a a a a a a a a

Two days later, and the mission was finally a go. They suited up— those that would be scouting further in the island, that is— and grouped up.

Keith and Hunk were the center of their plans, tasked with buying the most essential items they needed. Upon learning about this, Lance had huffed and crossed his arms.

“I _definitely_ could have gone with them. Have you seen what I can do with a little powder? No one would have been able to recognize me for _years._ ”

Hunk had believed it, too. Ultimately, though, they’d all decided that this was the best course of action.

Pidge had successfully wheedled her way out of travelling with Keith and Hunk. Everyone knew Shiro was weak to her doe eyes, though they wouldn’t dare say it to either of their faces. She, instead, would shove them in the right direction and shop for new sails where she could near the coast.

The port was nothing like how Hunk was expecting. He’d expected maybe three or four boats hooked to the dock, and maybe a few groups of people walking along the beach.

Instead, what he was greeted with was a literal sea of people. The beach could technically considered to be empty, if only when compared to the town the sat not even a mile away from the coastline. At least a hundred bodies shouted and haggled prices from what Hunk could see even while aboard Lady.

Lady had arrived to the island in the dead of night, and they spent hours circling around the entire land, trying to find even the tiniest sliver to park in.

Eventually, though, Keith stuck them in port, Pidge had the anchor dropped, and Lance divvied up the 'chores'. Shiro had long since climbed down the side of the boat to butter up a few choice merchants before Lance came out with the big guns (that is, his charming smile and defense-decimating charisma. Nobody knew how he did it.), leaving Hunk on his own to marvel at the crowd that seemed ready to drown him.

The air was heavy with salt and sea and sweat. Hunk fanned himself with the sleeve of his borrowed jacket as he wandered about, close enough to hear the others call for him whenever they finished.

It was all so different compared to his home island. They never got a _fraction_ of the people this port must host daily, and he was quickly getting overwhelmed.

Dogs barked in the distance, and if he listened close enough, he could hear the sound of children playing with them. Coins clicking together in dirty hands was a constant, drowning out the ocean's waves in its clamor.

Someone crashed into his back, but they were so skinny compared to him that they immediately bounced off of his frame.

"Oh! So sorry about that." Hunk lifted up the boy, dusting him off by his shoulders. "Are you alright?"

A familiar hand clasped onto his wrist. "I don't think so." Lance popped up, holding his palm out to the ratty looking teen. "Give it back."

The boy crossed his arms, blowing a huff. "Iunno what you're talking about, at all." They said.

Out of nowhere, Keith appeared on Hunk's left and reached behind the boy's back, despite their heated, "Hey!", plucking a bag of coins from their person.

"Keep a better eye on this, big guy." Keith said, tossing it to Hunk, who quickly scrambled to catch it from the air.

Keith and Lance turned their eyes on the boy, who quickly tucked his tail between his legs and scurried away as soon as he could. Lance clapped his hands free of proverbial dirt.

"Really, you'd think pickpockets would learn to be _sneaky_ about it. I could've spotted him two miles down the beach."

Hunk grimaced, quickly tucking the coin bag in coat-pocket near his breast. "Sorry. I'm not used to..." He gestured vaguely to the quaint grandness the merchant port offered to them. "This."

Lance patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, buddy. We're all here to look out for eachother."

At that, he gave Keith a pointed look, who only grunted and nodded his head.

Lance clapped his hands together, pleased. "Alright. We'll go over the list once more with Pidge, and then you two can be off, yeah?"

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

The port quickly grew from wooden stalls to mossy roads of cobblestone and homes of brick and mortar. They were stacked so high that Hunk counted one such house with three different windows over top one another that seemed to belong to completely separate families.

The streets bustled with early morning activity; people were washing their clothes and dropping off freshly cooked breakfast in exchange for wares. A townie stood in a circle of picked apart flowers on the stoop of her home, clapping her hands to a beat and teaching a child how to sing while another weaved petals into her hair.

Hunk was so enamored by the city life that he had to be dragged along by Keith, the latter gathering Hunk's sleeve in his palm so they wouldn't get separated.

Their first stop was a rather large booth, directly embedded in the home of the merchant. In the background, a furnace burned bright. The blacksmith met them at the window with a jolly smile as he wiped soot from his hands against his apron.

"How may I help you this fine morning, lads?" He gestured behind him. "You'll only find the best steel used in my products."

Keith raised his eyebrows appreciatively. "How much for twenty ingots of it?"

"Just ingots?" The blacksmith carding his fingers through his beard. Then, he reached below and pulled out a few bars of metal "For this size, I'd say about 500 gold."

Keith reached behind him to grab his pouch, but Hunk intercepted him, leaning against the barrier. "Are you sure about that?"

"Pardon me?"

Hunk grinned. "Sorry to interrupt, of course. It's just that— and I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this— but your steel isn't _worth_ 500."

At the blacksmith's flabbergasted face, Hunk placatingly lifted his hands. "I'm sure you worked _very_ hard on it, but if you look at it here—" Hunk flipped the ingot over in his palm and thumbed across it. Keith didn't see a single thing wrong with it, but the blacksmith shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "— you'll see all those impurities."

The blacksmith grunted, crossing his arms. "If you don't want it, then forget about it." He began to pile the ingots back where they came from, but Hunk quickly shook his head.

"How about this? Cut the price in half for us, and we'll be about our way?"

"Pfft. You must be wild in the head, kid. You won't find a finer blacksmith than I, and if you have a problem with my products, then you'd best be making your way to the next city."

Keith tugged Hunk back by his collar. "What are you doing?"

"I've got this, don't worry." He stage-whispered, before twirling back to the blacksmith. "250, yeah? And I'll tell you a trade secret."

The blacksmith paused, letting the few remaining ingots drop back onto the counter. "You mean to tell me _you're_ a blacksmith?"

"I've dabbled in it here and there." Hunk said, just a tad cheekily. "Deal or no?"

The blacksmith narrowed his eyes, regarding Hunk's character. He must have liked what he saw there, because he stuck his palm out for a handshake, which Hunk gladly accepted. "Deal."

Keith scrambled to pay for the steel, and packed them away as Hunk climbed across the counter to fiddle with the blacksmith's furnace. He'd just stacked the last one a top the pile in his bag when Hunk emerged, laughing at a joke said blacksmith must have told.

"That was quick." He mumbled as Hunk waved goodbye. "How did you trick him like that?"

Hunk startled, before he laughed outright. "I didn't _trick_ him. People don't want to give away their things for nothing, so I just traded knowledge for it. Besides, he _definitely_ knew he didn't sell the best steel." He wiped his hands clean against his thighs before holding his hand out to hold Keith's. "Where to next?"

Keith looked down at Hunk's innocently outstretched fingers, darting his eyes up to regard Hunk. He seemed to be shining in this new environment, like an entirely new person. Keith couldn't say that he didn't like it, though. He took the offered palm and tugged Hunk along through the town.

They continued on together, Hunk dazzling and bartering prices left and right like it was nothing. A well-placed compliment there had the prices cut in half, while a show of strength there had them receiving their wares for next to nothing.

Between one stop and the next, Keith caught Hunk by his sleeve and slowed their pace.

“Huh?”

Keith tugged him back a few steps, gesturing for him to keep quiet as they came back within earshot of a gossiping group of older folks, all sitting in a circle outside of a tavern as they brushed their mounts and fed them oats.

“I can’t _believe_ what they did to that poor sailor, though.” A woman sighed, placing a hand over her heart. “The injuries on his back, alone…”

“Well, did they say _why_ they did it?” Her companion questioned, shoving bobby pins in his hair as he tried to fix the tangled updo. His hands were slapped away as the third member of their party, a younger woman, unhooked a comb from his belt and began to comb out the tangles.

“He fought against the Galra.” She whispered, conspiratorially. The air between them grew cold, and Keith clenched his fist against the pommel of his sword.

“I heard they were trying to quash a rebellion.” She continued on. “On an island of metal and silver, in the south sea. He escaped, but they caught him just before he reached the shores here. Beat him bloody and left him to be picked by the gulls, they did.”

The older woman pressed her face against her mount, presumably for comfort. “How awful. Those damned purple flags better _not_ attack here, or they’ll receive a harsh—”

“Ass kicking?” The man being groomed interrupted with a grin. He patted her steed— an old, grey donkey that flicked its tail in response— and he received a tug on his hair as a reprimanding.

“I hate you sometimes.” She laughed, and the three moved on past the horrific event to speak of lighter things.

Hunk found himself chewing on his fingernails nervously, and quickly yanked them from his mouth as Keith continued on, with a troubled look on his brow.

Once they were out of earshot, and in the privacy of the crowd, he nudged him. “What did that mean?”

“I’m not sure.” Keith confessed. “But… it sounds like the galra are becoming a bigger threat than we thought. I’ll have to talk to Shiro about it.”

Hunk grunted, nervous and nauseous all of a sudden, shifting their bought wares between one arm and the next as they continued on.

Keith frowned, pausing to look over the heads of the sea of people before he motioned of Hunk to follow him in another direction. “C’mon.”

It was long after noon had passed by now, as Keith led him towards a small, almost deserted, part of town to purchase a steed and wagon to carry all of their newly acquired junk. It was only a rental, so they didn't have to worry about haggling _this_ price, leaving Hunk free to openly marvel at the horses and donkeys while Keith paid for a strong mare and a medium-sized wagon to attach to her.

Hunk gently pet a tiny little mule off to the side, murmuring soft praises to him as he chewed a carrot from the palm of his hand.

Keith was so distracted by the sight that the horse breeder had to clear her throat to catch his attention again, greeting him with a knowing, sly grin. She didn't say a word, though, only passing him the reigns of his new coach.

He spluttered, and her grin only grew until finally he stomped off towards Hunk and tugged him along.

The few supplies they'd carried there were easily organized and placed in the covered wagon, and Hunk took the passenger side while Keith led them through town. Along the way, they stopped to pick up a few bites of food for a late lunch, seating themselves on a small cliff to watch the waves catching the sunlight. In the distance, they could even see Lance taking a break by having a dance with a few of the locals. The only reason they spotted him at all was the dangerous amount of jewelry he wore, and how it reflected back in their eyes every time he twirled himself around.

"I wasn't expecting to have this much fun." Hunk confesses, flicking crumbs from his thighs. When he rests his hand against the grass again, he accidentally runs them across Keith's knuckles. "Oh! Sorry."

Keith eyes Hunk, a peculiar look on his face. Half a smile takes root against his lips, and he pats the back of Hunk's hand before pulling his fingers away. "It's no problem."

The sun halos him perfectly in rays of light, barely able to peek through the thick tangles of his hair. He'd left it down today, and it framed across his shoulders like a shawl, tickling across his skin like weeping willow leaves. Before he could stop himself, Hunk tucked a stray lock behind Keith's ear, who jerked at the motion.

Hunk swallowed down his apology when Keith's eyes grew half-lidded, and he leaned back into the touch. His lips parted slightly, as if he was trying to decide between asking Hunk something or kissing his palm. He seemed completely relaxed in the privacy the cliff had provided for them, and with that came a side of him that Hunk was endlessly fascinated with. He was just as intense as ever, but not like the quick, fireball the others were used to. No— _this_ Keith burned his way into Hunk's gut, searing upward to steal the air from his lungs and then claim his heart for his own.

"You're beautiful." Hunk finds himself murmuring, thumb tracing across Keith's cheek. The latter snorts, half disbelieving and half amused, though he does flush a beautiful shade of red. Their eyes hold each other's gaze, and Keith's is a pool of starlight in the sun, hypnotizing in their own enchanting way.

Keith breaks the contact first, reaching up to press Hunk's hand away, turning his face away to hide it from his gaze. "We'd better hurry up, before we lose the light."

"Alright." Hunk agrees. He would've agreed to anything, really, if Keith had just looked at him in that way again.

They continue on, silence wrapping around them like a cloak. Not necessarily unwanted, but Hunk couldn't stop the butterflies in his tummy. They always seemed to come out and play when he was around Keith only.

They stop off near a curving path towards the shore, and Hunk takes a moment while he leaves the wagon to marvel at the scenery again. It reminds him of home, in a way, but with maybe triple the population.

"Hunk?"

Keith shakes him out of his reverie, gesturing behind him. "We're here. What's got you so distracted?"

Hunk smiles at him, bright and wide, before he tosses his arm across Keith's shoulders and squeezes it against his palm. "Nothing to worry about. What're we buying here?"

Keith stumbles at the sudden grab, but recovers quick enough to dig through his pockets for the list. "If I remember right, we're looking for some sort of lumber. Shop's right over there." He gestures down the way.

However they get maybe three steps that direction when they're intercepted by a much-too-cheerful merchant. Even when they try to step around him, he blocks their path.

"You two in a hurry, I reckon?"

Keith feels his hair raise, and a bad feeling courses down his back. "Something like that. 'Scuse us."

As he tries to shove past, a heavy hand grips him by the shoulder and tugs him back. Keith barely restrains himself from pulling his sword out and cutting them down where they stand. His hand strays to the pommel of said sword, and the merchant's grin widens even more, until it was as wide as his face.

"What a peculiar sword you have. And I couldn't help but notice all of the coin you've been tossing around here and there." He circles them, and Keith follows him with his eyes, ushering Hunk close as the latter twitches from his nerves.

The merchant leans against a nearby lamppost, studying his nails as if they had nothing better to do. "You two wouldn't happen to have come from the docks, would ya?"

Keith schools his features into a stoic mask, and Hunk quickly lets his gaze drop to the cobblestone. He's a smart enough person to know when to keep his mouth shut, of course.

"That's what I thought. And— really— we wouldn't want to see what the constable thinks of pirates roaming the streets, yeah?" The merchant circles them once more, before he tosses an arm around Hunk's shoulders and shakes him as if he were an old friend. "So why don't you two just leave your coins in my... _safekeeping_ , and I'll keep the militia off your tail. Deal?"

The guy was absolutely dreadful at sounding persuasive, but both Keith and Hunk had noticed the glint of a silver gun in his back pocket, and neither would risk their lives for a situation such as this.

But Keith was _also_ never one to take a beating with his belly up like a submissive dog.

Quick as a whip, he whirled around, shoving the heel of his palm against the fragile bone of the merchant's nose, following up with a swift kick that knocked him back until he stumbled over a dip in the road, tripping and falling on his backside with all the grace of a wounded mule.

Speaking of...

"Hunk! To the wagon!" Keith shouts, hopping over the merchant without half a glance at the man. He heard rather than saw Hunk take his advice, and Keith was half a step behind when he suddenly found himself with a face full of gravel. A tight hand slithered around his boot, tugging him back hard, and Keith allowed himself to be pulled close before he kicking his shoe straight across the other's face and rolled in the opposite direction.

The wagon circled around, and their steed was obviously upset by the ordeal, but Hunk was keeping her steady enough for Keith to hop on the passenger side before they sped off together, with the sound of a shrill yell for the police echoing in the air behind them.

Sharp whistles followed soon after, and loud shouts and commotion followed as people peeked their heads out of their homes and their shops to watch the chase. The militia rounded the corners like a pack of locusts, but none had horses to catch up to the pirates in time.

"We can't lead them back to Lady." Keith said, and Hunk quickly passed the reigns to him when they were at a pause in their sudden chase. "Jump when I say so."

"Uh— excuse me?"

Keith didn't respond, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. They turned once more, wagon riding on two wheels for a hot second before it landed heavy on the others.

Then, he nearly flew out of the seat as the horse was yanked to a stop. "Jump!"

Well. Keith hadn't steered him wrong yet, technically. Hunk jumped before the logical part of his brain could tell him why that was an awful idea, and he rolled across the dirt before stopping against an old, forgotten stump of a tree on the other side of the road. Keith had stopped as well, whistling sharp and loud to get the horse to stop her journey any further.

They'd stopped _right_ in front of the rental shop, and before Hunk could splutter and point out the good luck, Keith was there and gathering him up to tug him along and continue the chase.

Their hands meet in the middle, fingers tangling like strings of fate, and Keith leads him along the way faster than Hunk's brain can keep up. His lungs burn, and not in the way like they did before, but he forces himself to keep going as the shrill whistles of the police get closer and closer.

Then, he is tugged sharply to the left, and the rest of the air is shoved from his lungs as he's pressed in the corner of an alley. Keith presses himself fully across Hunk's front, lifting his coat in front of them to hide the bright gold of Hunk's headband from reflecting the sun's beams.

Hunk tries to hold his breath and keep quiet, but as the pounding of the boots against the ground grew closer and rattled the trash in the alley, he shoved his face in the nook of Keith's neck to muffle the loud panting against his shirt. He maybe was also hiding frightened tears there as well, and his hands shook as he placed them against Keith's waist, pulling him close.

Keith stood steady and brave the entire while they hid, ready to turn and unleash hell if they'd been cornered there.

But, by the grace of the heavens and sky above, the militia ran right past; not even sparing a glance in the sliver that was the dirty alley they'd careened into.

Even as the noise faded, they stayed pressed tight against one another. It was only when Keith felt Hunk relax minutely that he pulled back.

He tilted his head up, studying the way Hunk's cheeks were flushed from the exertion, the way his lips were slightly parted, and how close they stood together. The hands against his hips were a heavy, warm weight that he liked too much to push away.

"Are you hurt?" He murmured. His thumb, unbidden, came to run across Hunk's lower lip as he pressed his palm against Hunk's face, cupping his warm cheek. His tongue came out to follow the trail Keith had left, and Keith felt himself swallow thickly.

"I'm..." Hunk let loose a breath that shuddered his bones. "I'm alright." His own hand came to lightly trace across the injured part of Keith's chin, careful not to press down on the shallow cuts from the sharp gravel and rocks. "Does this hurt?"

He doesn't get a verbal response. Instead, his head is dipped down and pressed forward, so that he can meet Keith dead on. Their lips met, but Hunk was pretty sure he felt Keith's teeth smash against his in the excitement. He couldn't find it in himself to care as he hugged Keith closer, wrapping both arms around the latter.

Hands, strong and steady, ran across his back. Their chests were so flush together that he couldn't tell if it was _his_ heart beating so erratically, or if it was Keith's. Maybe they beat as one. Either way, he never wanted the moment to end.

Keith pulled back to raggedly gasp, as if he forgot to breathe while they kissed, but he was back on Hunk just as quickly, with such a ferocious hunger that had Hunk's toes curling in his boots.

He smiled against the kiss, despite the situation— despite _everything—_  and he squeezed Keith tight in his grip.

Neither of them could have been able to say how much time had passed between one kiss and the next. They all blended together like a melodious song, wrapping around them like a hypnotic spell until they forgot themselves. The earth could have ended then, and neither would have cared.

The moment is broken, though, when a burst of wind cuts through the alley and sends a can rattling between their feet. The two startle apart, as if a gunshot had cut between them.

Keith looked up at him with such wide, amazed eyes that Hunk could only stare back at him, just as dazed and just as yearning. He turned as red as a sunset, rotating on his heel towards the alley entrance.

His hand finds Hunk's easily, squeezing it tight, and sis words stutter as he tries to remember how to work his tongue.

"The... It looks like it's all clear." Keith mumbled, clearing his throat. "We should go, before they come back."

Hunk, with his free hand, traced his swelling lips. His smile wouldn't go away, no matter how hard he tried. "Right."

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

They _somehow_ make it back to sanctioned ground. They duck into every alley and nook and cranny they can fit in, and a few times they had to merge in with the crowd. Hunk even dragged Keith to play with a group of kids as a menacing duo with matching guns strolled past, obviously on the lookout for trouble or blood. Probably both.

Keith leaves the group with flowers weaved around his head in a crown, and Hunk with his headband braided into his hair like a wave of gold in a sea of black.

But, they make it.

Almost as soon as their feet meet the sand, Keith's entire demeanor changes. The tense way he held his back relaxed, and his rushed pace eases as he led Hunk back towards Lady. The sun was setting behind them as they climbed aboard, and they were greeted with a pointed look from none other than Pidge.

"I hope you two didn't sneak off and canoodle instead of getting the supplies." She teased, brows raised.

She looked taken aback when the two of them spluttered excuses and their faces flamed brighter than a fire, completely proving her point.

Before she could tease them further, Keith hooks his arm across her shoulder and tugs her off. He points back towards the town, and she looks mildly alarmed as he regaled their troubles, only to end with a serious nod.

"I'll get someone to handle it. You got everything?"

Keith digs the shopping list out of his pockets and places it in her outstretched palm. "Mostly. We didn't get the wood."

Pidge rolled her hand dismissively through the air. "I'll handle it." She tossed a grin over her shoulder towards Hunk, giving him a conspiratory wink. "Good job today, boys."

Hunk ducked his head down, rubbing his fingers across the back of his neck. He wasn't sure if his face would ever turn brown again, or if he'd ever stop smiling like a dope.

She then left them to their own devices, shouting for someone or another to get the last few items on the list.

Keith motioned for Hunk to follow him below deck and, like a lovesick puppy, Hunk followed him with a peppy stride.

He's surprised when, instead of leading him towards the infirmary that Hunk thought of as his room, Keith led him towards his _own_ personal chambers.

It was built completely different than the infirmary was. There were two portholes, and the setting sun added a hazy, golden hue to everything the light glimmered upon. Bright, shiny knick-knacks littered across the snug space, shoved in corners or under the desk, or even upon the bed. Many of which could probably kill a man if Keith so chose.

The bed was covered in a thick, plush blanket that had stitches shaped like diamonds embroidered in, and it was so long that it hung off of the bed like drapes and swept across the floor, tucked under the bed frame to keep the ends out of the way.

Like most everything in Keith's room, it was a deep, captivating burgundy— a perfect mix of brown and red. Matching it was a desk that sat just under one of the portholes, made of a rich mahogany. Round inkwells lined the outer edges, each filled with large feather quills that were so heavy they curved inward. The ink stained the glasses so deeply that Hunk wasn’t sure if they were full or not. They were held securely in a neat little wooden shelf that, in case the boat tipped too far in one direction, would keep them in place.

There were a number of drawers, each with a golden handle. Hunk wondered what Keith kept in them.

In the corner, on the opposite side of the room as the bed, was an overflowing bookcase that was more maps than books. Some had shapes carved out of them, and lines drawn across with thick, dripping paint that splattered on the floor. Knives embedded deep, through the maps and into the spines of the books, either for easy access to the weapons, or because something about the map had pissed him off. Perhaps a mix of both.

There was a harpoon in the corner that Hunk noticed from his peripherals as he was ushered inside. It was shiny, silver like the moon and sharper than the cold ocean deep. The shaft was wrapped tight in some sort of fabric, but the weapon head was bared menacingly, wedged between the end of the bookshelf and the wall.

He must have been staring hard, because Keith fondly shook his head, plopping on the bed stuffed full of soft cotton and wool. “It was a gift. Shiro didn’t want it, so I took it.”

“Oh.”

Hunk ran his fingers across the side of the blade, and it felt smoother than silk. Not a spot of dirt laid upon it, either. “Who’s it from?”

Keith shrugged his shoulders. “Some other captain, probably.”

He gave an introspective hum, stepping away from the weapon before he accidentally wiggled it out of place. Keith patted the spot on the bed next to him, shoving pillows out of the way to spread a map between his legs. When Hunk sat down, the bed shook and jostled him out of place, and Keith gave him a kind smile.

Hunk felt as though he was in a bizarre dream. His lips buzzed from their earlier smooch, and he was aching to do it again, but he wasn’t sure if it was appropriate.

Keith marked a place on the map with a nearby quill, positively dripping in ink that spilled across the page, even when Keith didn’t mean to. He didn’t seem bothered by it, though, so Hunk didn’t interrupt his process.

Instead, he basked in Keith’s presence more. He was a private person, Hunk was sure. To be invited to his private quarters was high praise of Hunk’s character, but Hunk wasn't sure what he did to prove it to him yet.

Long after the map had dried and Keith had rolled it back up, rubbing at the black stains on his fingertips, the two still hadn’t broken the silence. Hunk had slid one leg upon the bed, curling it towards himself as he tapped a rhythm against his boot. He was still in his disguise, and he was starting to get a little sweaty in the coat from the cramped room.

He’d wiped at his brow for the umpteenth time before Keith reached over to help him shed his outerwear.

“Thanks.” He whispered, as the coat dropped from his elbows and pooled behind him. By the end, it would probably end up on the floor in a forgotten, silky mess.

He fingered the buttons of his button-up, and Keith watched him, just as intense as before. Hunk found himself hesitantly stuttering out syllables, self-consciously wringing his hands together.

“About… before.” He started, and then stopped. That line sounded familiar, in his head.

Keith slid closer than he had before, staying as silent as the night. Hunk opened his mouth to finish, but he couldn’t find the words on the tip of his tongue before Keith slid _another_ inch closer.

“Do you regret it?” He heard Keith ask, echoing in his ears as Hunk’s head swam. A hand pressed against his chest, and Keith darted his eyes down to watch, as if he could see Hunk’s heart palpitating under the skin.

Hunk gulped down the lump in his throat, leaning forward until he could feel Keith’s breath tickle across his lips. “Regret what?”

“Kissing me.”

Keith looked at him again, and Hunk could see flecks of royal purple flirting with the dark of his eyes, mixing in the iris like an oil painting masterfully crafted with just as much love as he deserved. Their foreheads pressed together, and the golden headband was a soft comfort to Keith’s skin, just like every other contact with the islander-turned-pirate that was Hunk.

“Do you?” Hunk asked, instead of answering. His air was nervous, and Keith, when he pressed his hand down against Hunk’s and wrapped them together in a firm hold, could feel that his palms were sweaty.

“Never.”

They kissed again, sweet and delicate and gentle. Keith’s lips were soft, but still chapped in places, and Hunk’s were nothing but plump and wanting. It was such a vulnerable moment that it made Keith’s tummy curl, in only the best of ways, and he teetered forward for more.

Hunk fell backward under the press, catching himself with his elbows. Never one to waste an opportunity, Keith climbed atop him, straddling his thighs. Their movements were heated; a flood of lava and boiling earth across a smooth mattress in the corner of an old, creaking ship.

The kiss broke when Keith pulled back, just like last time. His face was so open that Hunk was shocked into silence, chest heaving like he’d run a marathon; like Keith had stolen the breath right from his lungs.

He wasn’t heavy at all, pressing down on Hunk as he was. Instead, he was a comforting presence; a source of warmth that spread through to his bones. He kept Hunk steady, with their hands still tangled together as they were. Hunk felt happy, trapped underneath him.

The warm beams of the sun peeked around his head, filtering through strands of hair as Hunk passed his fingers through them, and Keith leaned into the touch. The light bounced off of his skin, soaking into his eyelids.

His nose scrunched as Hunk hit a ticklish spot on the back of his neck, eyes drifting shut to bask in the attention. Keith already had pale skin, soaked darker with a tan from sitting in the sun for years, but he was a milky white compared to the darker bleed of the back of Hunk’s hand as he pressed it against his cheek.

The red markings across his chin, where blood had seeped through the cracks and dried there, looked painful, but Keith hardly twitched as Hunk ran his fingers across them again. Hunk pressed a kiss against the wound.  

“You’re beautiful.” He said, for the second time that day.

Keith was just as startled by it now as he was then, and Hunk gave him another kiss for it. And another, and more and more until their limbs tangled and their hearts bled.

His fingers found their way to the loops of his belt, and he dragged them dangerously low on Keith’s hips until they caught against his joints. His legs were spread, straddling Hunk’s waist completely, and he wouldn’t be able to paw at his skin the way they were positioned, but that was fine. Keith kept him distracted enough for it not to be a problem.

His kiss had travelled from his lips, down to his jaw, and further to press against his neck. Hunk swallowed heavily, and he was sure Keith would be able to feel it as close as they were pressed.

Keith was just as bothered as he was by the petting, though. He had a pretty flush dusting across his skin from wherever it was exposed, and he had this _look_ on his face that had Hunk enraptured. It was like a dream.

Keith reached back to press his hands against Hunk’s and positioned them the way he wanted; one against his thigh and the other reaching behind until the curve of his bottom was cupped in his palm.

Hunk huffed out a laugh and Keith met him with a cheeky grin. A dimple appeared, between his mouth and his cheek, and Hunk fell in love just that little bit more. He tugged Keith down for another kiss, and Keith took that distraction as his chance to get them both naked. He was a man on a mission.

The lighting grew dark as the sun disappeared from the sky, and Keith knew he probably should have lit a candle before they started… whatever this was, but he was in too deep now to even think about trying to get up and light one.

It’s not like he needed it. He was more than willing to memorize every inch of Hunk’s skin with his fingers alone. And he’d have plenty of time, too. They wouldn’t be needed by the crew for _hours_.

It was alright for them to just bask in each other’s presence; get to know each other inside and out.

So they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> is this a good time to mention that it's been like two months and i still haven't written the ending to this fic aljdhjlsdhasljd


	13. XIII.

They woke even more tangled than before they’d drifted off to sleep. It didn’t seem possible, in the moment. Keith curled around him from behind, arms holding Hunk close as he breathed, steady and deep. His breath furled around Hunk’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine.

The blanket was stuffed at their feet, keeping their toes warm from the cool chill of the morning. That did little to help him, though, as a burst of cold drafted through the room. Hunk scratched at his bare chest.

He was too comfortable to move. But he was _also_ more naked than clothed, so he’d atleast need to sit up and grab the blanket.

Keith’s arm slid down his belly as Hunk moved, catching at the curve between his thighs and his stomach, and Hunk made sure to tuck him in first before he got settled again. Keith was even more bare than he was.

Hunk passed a thumb across a bruise that littered Keith’s skin, on his forearm. It was a brief reminder of the day before, and his eyes darted over to the map that laid rolled up on the desk.

A soft jumble of murmured nothings sounded behind him as Keith slowly woke at the lack of Hunk’s presence, and the latter pressed a kiss against his forehead. He was giddy that he was _able_ to do that.

“Good morning.” He greeted, as Keith blinked open his tired eyes. He immediately softened, relaxing against the blanket as he searched Hunk’s face.

“Morning.” Came the whispered response.

The night before had surprised both of them. It had been a _good_ surprise, though, and the two had grown closer.

In general, they’d grown so close so quickly that it was scary. Hunk could hardly remember what he’d done before he’d been snatched up by Keith and plopped on the boat that was Lady. In a moment, his entire life had changed. For the better, definitely.

Through the door, they could hear the bustle of the morning crew making their way through the halls, and if Hunk listened close enough, he could hear Lance’s voice piercing through it all, divvying out the day’s tasks.

In the following hour, the two of them found their clothes again and began to dress. Hunk shyly hid himself in a corner, as if Keith hadn’t seen it all the night before, but the latter only rolled his eyes and left him be, shaking sand out of his boots.

Hunk was still wearing borrowed clothes, and would probably have to change again once he’d reached Shiro’s office, so he left the jacket off, as well as the headband. He’d have to remember to grab them before they went out the door, though.

As he finished buttoning his last button, he turned to Keith, who was struggling to tug a broken comb through his hair.

“Do you want help?” Hunk asked, already reaching for the messy lump atop his head.

Keith huffed a breath, shoving a lock of hair from his face. “ _Please_.”

Which is how Keith found himself sitting on the floor, between Hunk’s legs as he climbed atop the bed. He was focused on his task— which was to first untangle the comb so that he could work on the rest of Keith’s head.

His hands were so gentle that Keith forgot they were there half of the time. Locks of his hair fell in his face as they were freed from the knot, until Hunk was able to freely run his fingers through without accidentally pulling Keith’s scalp from his skull.

As Hunk began to comb through the rest of the tangles, Keith pulled on his boots and began to lace them up with an intricate knot, just because he had the time.

"So..." Hunk started, brushing Keith's hair back into a high ponytail. "What's the plan for today, navigator?"

Keith pfft'd, and pulled himself up to stand when Hunk offered his hand. "I need to find Shiro. Talk to him about what we heard in town."

"What we heard in town?"

Then, he remembered. The looks of a rebellion against the Galra were brewing on the shores of a few choice islands. Hunk, of course, had no clue what the Galra were even _known_ for, but surely they were bad if people were rebelling against them, right?

Hunk kept those thoughts to himself for the moment as Keith gathered his belongings. He didn't forget his coat or headband, though, and tossed them over his shoulders as Keith held the door open for him. On the way out, Keith locked it behind them.

 

∾∾∾∾∾∾

 

Shiro was easily found in his cabin, as always. Lance was nowhere to be seen, but his jacket was spotted hooked on the wall nearby, so he'd probably be returning sooner or later. And Pidge had been traversing the ropes as she tried to make the most of the wind they had that morning. Everyone was accounted for, then, _and_ they had all the supplies they needed for months.

Shiro grinned as they snuck into his office, waving at them with a quill in his hand. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you two were stowaways." He teased. "I rarely see you at your post anymore, Keith."

Keith bit his lip, ducking his head down. "Sorry, ser."

Shiro made a point to look at Hunk before he spoke. "There's not trouble. I'm sure you've been occupied with... more important matters."

Hunk coughed into his closed fist and made his way over to the trunks of treasures in the corner of the room, to return his borrowed items.

"You can keep the headband." Shiro called, signing one last paper before he put his quill away. "It looks better on you than it ever did on me."

"Oh!" Hunk flushed, though an appreciative, bashful grin grew across his face. "Thank you."

Moments later, Lance strolled through the cracked-open door. He carried breakfast in his arms— enough to feed all of them, as if he'd predicted that they'd congregate there. On his heels was Pidge, nearly salivating at the smell.

"I can have some, right?"

Lance rolled his eyes. "No, this is just for me and Shiro."

Pidge nabbed a sausage and stuffed it in her mouth before he could even set the plates down. "Too bad."

The two began to wrestle, and Shiro stuffed a boiled egg in his mouth.

"Morning, Lance." Hunk greeted, only to immediately get jumped on with a hug.

"There you are, big guy! I swear, I thought we left you behind. I didn't see you in the infirmary last night."

"I, uh... stayed with a friend?" Hunk flubbed, forcing himself not to dart his eyes over to Keith, who was just as red in the face. Lance, of course, noticed. But he spared them for the moment, if only to take part in the breakfast feast.

Keith and Hunk sat on opposite sides of Shiro's desk, and the latter was very careful not to spill food on the papers they used as placemats.

"Where are we headed next?" Keith asked, after gulping down a pint of cold, sugarless tea. "South?"

Shiro nodded his head, reaching below his chair to pull out a map. "Galra activity is heavy there, so we'll have to be careful. You'll have to man the helm more than you have been." Came his teasing again, and Keith flicked a leaf of parsley at him.

"Speaking of the Galra," Pidge started, plate already clear and licked clean, "We need to figure out how they found us and why they attacked the other day."

Shiro grunted, leaning back in his seat. "You're right. The only one I can think of that could have given away our location was our last job, though."

"Last I heard of them, they were busy with stealing their own cargo, though." Lance supplied, thumbing through a bundle of parchment. "Plus, we made a forced pit-stop at Hunk's place. It would've been nearly impossible to predict that we were on that exact course."

"And it's not like we have a spy on board." Pidge added. "The information would take too long for how fast they attacked."

That silenced the lot of them, both to finish their breakfast and to think over the new information.

"They probably just have an alert out to kill us on sight." Keith sighed, shoving the last bit of potato in his mouth.

A chorus of agreements sounded around him, and Hunk hesitantly cleared his throat.

"If it's alright... what exactly are the Galra?" He grimaced at the bad question. "Why are they attacking us, I mean?"

"Sometimes I forget you weren't with us from the beginning." Pidge tossed her feet up on the table, leaning back in her seat as a pure mimicry of their captain, who sat in the exact same pose. "Lance— you wanna do the honors?"

"I _am_ the best story-teller." Came the brag, before a space was cleared from the table for him to sit on, right in the center of the stage.

"The Galra are pirates, like us. Except they... are less for freedom and more for taking the seas for their own, and killing anyone who disagrees." Lance tossed a hand over his eyes. "The horrors these waters have seen. You remember that one battle, Shiro?" He continued before Shiro could even blink. "The blue stained red, and the surf grew gory, it sure did."

Hunk began to turn green, clutching his stomach, and Lance quickly moved on. "Anyway... we've fought them plenty of times. We're definitely on their shit-list, probably because we _also_ steal from their shores whenever we can."

"Low blows make giants fall." Pidge supplied, and Lance reached over to tousle her hair.

"Look at you, learning poetry."

She flicked him off.

Keith interrupted before the two could begin wrestling right on the table. "That leads us to what Hunk and I heard in town. A rumor."

At his serious tone, the commotion died down, and Shiro returned the two legs of his chair back to the ground. "What rumor?"

"A rebellion." Keith spoke low, conspiratorial as if someone was outside of the door and listening to their every breath. "A Galra-owned island tried to rebel, is what we heard. No clue if it's true or not, but..."

"If so— that's huge." Shiro finished for him. "Anything else?"

Keith tilted his head, trying to remember the exact words. "They said it was an island in the south seas... of— what was it...?"

"Metal and silver." Hunk supplied, in his stead. "An island of metal and silver."

Shiro hopped up, and Pidge and Lance worked to clear the table as he slapped down a huge map. It was so large that the ends bent over the edge and nearly touched the floor as he ran his fingers across the markings. He murmured to himself, under his breath, and Keith leaned over to follow the trails he crossed.

Lance pointed to a small island. "This is where we just were. South of here is completely under Galra control." He huffed a sigh. "Really narrows things down."

"Metal and silver?" Shiro mumbled, standing back with a pinched brow to stare at the map, as if it would reach out and slap the answer down between them.

"Maybe those are the exports?" Hunk tried. "Are there any islands that only ship out metals?"

Pidge nabbed a nearby book and slapped it on a separate part of the map, grabbing a magnifying glass to read the too-tiny words.

"They don't really publicly share what they import and export, but... I'll see if I can figure something out." She said, dog-earring a page here and there as she leafed through the book of maps. "If anything, I'll be able to narrow down our scope a little."

Shiro grabbed her by the shoulder before she pulled back completely. "Good luck, Pidge. If this rumor turns out to be true..."

Pidge straightened her back, standing taller. She gave a confident nod. "I understand, ser. I'll be back as soon as I find something."

As she left, Lance began gathering the map. "Let's take this to the stateroom.”

Keith hopped up. “I’ll meet you there.” He left just as quickly as Pidge had, leaving Hunk, Lance, and Shiro to gather a few more maps and books to tug along to a more private area of the ship.

 

∾∾∾∾∾∾

 

The stateroom was one of the most secure rooms of the ship. Shiro only ever allowed his closest crewmates inside, and that list was very short. The ellipse-shaped table took up most of the space in the room, directly in the center, and the three pirates piled their materials high atop it.

Shiro sat at the 'head' of the table, where the ellipse peaked. Lance took up the right side, in Keith's absence, already going over whatever material he could in a number of books.

Hunk sat down across from him, on Shiro's left. He thumbed across the map that took up half of the table until he came across his home island. It was a tiny speck compared to the other landmasses that took up the parchment, but it was a strangely comforting speck.

The three of them began to narrow down their search index while they waited for news from either Keith or Pidge. Lance tossed all of the books that had nothing to do with the Galra _or_ exports from the south half of the seas, while Shiro found and pinned up all of their largest, most comprehensive maps and drew out the Galra territories. Hunk split the work between them, helping Shiro to pin up the larger maps, and carrying off all of the books that Lance didn't need.

He'd just put down another stack of books off in the corner when Keith stomped in and slapped another map on the table. Hunk recognized it as the one from last night, covered in ink drippings that streaked across the page like stripes. Lance grimaced at the awful penmanship, but he didn't say anything about it.

"What's this?"

"A map." He said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Lance gave him a deadpan look, rolling his eyes so hard that they could only see the whites for a few moments.

"What's _on_ the map, smart ass?"

In the middle of it was a small grouping of islands that were surrounded by a black circle. Keith followed the line with his index finger. "I'm not sure if I'm right but... I think one of these is the islands those people were talking about." He stole the closest chair and sat down on it, staring so intently at the map that his eyebrows drew together on his forehead.

Lance leaned over the table, thumbing across his book as he searched for passages about the mentioned islands. "How do you know?"

Keith bit his lower lip and weakly shrugged his shoulders. "A hunch?"

Lance rolled his eyes again. "You and your damn hunches."

"They've never steered us wrong before." Shiro consoled him, placing a hand on Lance's shoulder as he sat, to help looking for more information about the islands in some of the books. "It's atleast a good place to start."

"You're always on _his_ side." Lance snarked, turning his nose up. Shiro reached over to grab his hand, squeezing it tight in his hold, and Lance gave him a smile back. It was so common an argument of theirs that it had become a running joke, of sorts.

While the two of them flirted and canoodled, Hunk sat down next to Keith and watched as he marked the same triage of islands on the other maps lining the table.

"You sure are sure about this." He noted, fanning the pages to help the ink dry faster.

"You learn to trust your gut after a life at sea, I guess." Keith said, half-distracted as he chewed on the feather part of his quill. The taste left a sour look on his face, but he did it anyway.

Hunk nodded his head. He could agree with that sentiment, no matter what way he looked at it.

There weren't that many maps to go through, and they of course didn't mark _every_ single map on board. Just essential ones, and trade routes that went to those islands.

They'd just finished up the last few and were fanning them to dry when Pidge marched in.

"The books had absolutely jack-shit." She announced. " _But_ , some of the newer crewmates pointed me in the right direction." She climbed on the table and sat down in the middle of a clear space, crossing her legs. "None of them knew anything about an island 'of silver and metal', but they did know about a place where we can find out more." She dragged her finger down the page until she got to the passage she wanted.

"There's no direct route to it, unless you have the Galra flag, _and_ the right papers, but... both of those things can easily be forged." She said dismissively. "The only problem is actually _getting_ there. We'd likely get lost in rolling storms and freeze to death in the middle of the night if we followed the wrong wind."

That had them all grimacing.

"The _good_ news is that we'd hear directly from the source whether or not a rebellion is brewing." She pointed to a picture of a map on the next page. "This is the island, here." On the page were the exact groupings of islands that Keith had pointed out. She drew an invisible line from the islands to a peninsula near it on the page. "And _here_ is a very interesting little outpost. Rumor has it if you pay off the Galra there enough, you can get information no one other than Galra would have."

That had Shiro sitting up straighter in his seat, and Pidge quickly moved on before she could get their hopes up. "It's probably just a rumor, because I doubt that the Galra would let that just _slide_ , but..."

"Good work, Pidge." Shiro praised, nonetheless. "Good work all of you."

"What does this mean, then? For us." Lance asked. Pidge ripped out the relevant information from her book and threw it on the floor, before tacking it up on the wall of maps.

"It means we need to get there, no matter what." Shiro stood, pacing back and forth behind his chair. "But our crew now is too large to go on an expedition."

"I'll go." Keith quickly volunteered. "You'll need your best helmsman."

Shiro smiled. "You don't even know what I'm planning."

"I have a hunch." Came the dry response, and the two of them stood side by side. "You know that you want me there, anyway."

"Of course, you're right." Shiro agreed. "But, we can't just leave the rest of the crew in the middle of the ocean." He raked his fingers across his undercut, tapping his foot. "We'd need to find a safe haven."

Lance stepped up, then, a wide grin on his face. "I'll figure that out for you." He pressed a kiss against Shiro's cheek and shoved a map under his eyes. "I know just the place, too. A beautiful town nowhere _near_ the Galra. Plus, quite a few people owe me big time there. They'd be willing to let us sit on their coast for atleast a few weeks."

Shiro let out a relieved breath. "You always come through for us, Quartermaster." He teased, and Pidge shoved her hands between them before they could get physical.

“What about our client?” She asked, muffled as their coats swarmed her face before she could slap the fabric away.

Shiro just barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. “That’s been a lost cause since we crashed. Don’t worry about them.”

Lance frowned. “Is that more paperwork you’re going to be shoving off on me?”

Shiro innocently shrugged his shoulders, and, instead of answering, changed the subject overtop of Lance’s muttering.

"I'll go gather a few more people for our crew." He said to Keith, before addressing the rest of them. "We don't have to keep this excursion quiet but... Only share what you deem necessary. Understood?"

Pidge and Lance saluted, and Hunk quickly followed their lead, only behind by half a beat.

 

∾∾∾∾∾∾

 

They split up, then. Shiro went to gather the last few pirates for their band, and Lance and Pidge gathered supplies and disguises for them to use on their trip. Pidge promised to make the Galra flags as soon as she could, which meant they'd have it long before they actually set sail.

Keith led Hunk down to the lower decks, even lower than Hunk had ever been, and had him help prepare a small dinghy. It would probably fit about five people comfortable, and only had one sail. But it was definitely inconspicuous, and would get them from Point A to Point B just fine.

They carried it to the top deck, struggling only a little bit up that last flight of stairs. Keith wouldn't admit it aloud, but Hunk did most of the heavy-lifting with ease. For some reason, the show of strength had him hiding his face against his sleeves whenever he caught his cheeks flaming red.

Hunk wiped sweat from his brow as they finally made it back to the main deck, lifting his shirt to wipe himself dry. Keith made sure to avert his eyes, though he'd seen all of it the night prior, anyway.

They sat down inside of the ship and began securing the sails and knots, piling in extras of ropes and supplies whenever it occurred to them to do so. Pidge stopped by every so often to measure out the sails so that they'd be accurate in Galra colors, but the two were otherwise left alone.

Hunk hadn't realized how late it had gotten until the sky began turning a vibrant mix of orange and pink behind Keith's head, painting him in the rich colors. Hunk's breath caught in his throat, and he looked away only when his fingers got tangled in the knots in his hands.

Keith glanced up as Hunk struggled to untie his fingers, letting out a startled laugh. "Got distracted?" He leaned forward and helped him, nimbly working at the rope until it slackened in his grip and pooled between their feet.

He was so close that Hunk could feel his body-heat radiating off him. He ran warmer than Hunk would have assumed, but that was one of an infinite amount of endearing things he'd learned about the other. Before he caught himself, Hunk leaned down to press his lips against Keith's forehead, just where the skin met his hair.

He pulled away just as quick, though. Keith froze for half a second, before he tilted up to look at Hunk, a strange look filtering across his face. Before he could ask about it, Hunk broke the eye-contact and continued working on the knots.

"I guess this means... we won't see each other for a while, huh?" He mumbled, face warming. Even as he spoke, he could feel Keith's intense stare burning at his skin.

His fingers trembled as he felt along the rope, but he pretended it was more because he was trying to undo a really strong knot, and not because he was terrified of the future. They'd late themselves bare to one another, and Hunk had never done that with another soul. He'd never _wanted_ to, and now his other was going to be leaving and may not be coming back.

Those thoughts were probably a bit too heavy for a relationship that had both started with a gunshot and only lasted less than a month, so far.

Keith sat next to him on the thwart, and the wood creaked underneath their combined weight. Hunk hoped it would hold for Shiro and the rest while they were on their journey.

"I'll be back soon." Keith promised. "I know you may not have signed up for a rebellion when this all started, but..."

Hunk shook his head. "It's not the rebellion that has me worried." He confessed. "I'm worried about _you_."

"Me?" Keith looked startled, jolting back as if he'd been hit with the words. "What for?"

Hunk glanced around the deck, but no prying eyes looked back, so he leaned forward to press himself closer. "It's going to be dangerous." He said, slowly. His hand drifted for Keith's, but he only placed it next to his instead of holding it, as he'd become accustomed to.

"You might not _come_ back. And, I know this is sudden but..." Hunk cleared his throat, yanking his hand back to wring them together. "But..."

Now probably wasn't the time for a grand confession. He'd always learned that when it came to love, one was supposed to _wait_ and let it play out slow and steady, and if it held up to the test of time, then the love was true.

Hunk's belly did flip-flops when he thought of Keith, sometimes. Or when Keith laughed and bared his teeth, showing off his canines that were sharper than Hunk's by a mile. His heart raced whenever they kissed, as few times as that had been, and, even when he's nowhere near him, he feels calm knowing that Keith is around. He _trusts_ Keith. But that didn't mean that he _loved_ him, right?

Ugh, why was it all so confusing?

"Hunk." Keith broke him out of the shipwreck that was his thoughts. "I'll come back. One way or another."

Hunk winced. "I think it's the _another_ I'm afraid of."

Keith smiled at him, then. Showing off those pearly white, sharp canines. "I'll come back. I promise." He pressed his hand against the back of Hunk's neck, pulling him close to kiss him sound across the lips, as if they'd done it a million times.

"Alright." Hunk agreed, flustered more than he'd like to admit. "You'd better, or I'll have to commandeer the boat and go after you."

The helmsman snorted, standing up to step out of the boat and beginning piling the rest of the supplies aboard it. "God forbid. I'd hate to see you seasick while at the wheel."

Hunk grimaced, rubbing his stomach. "You and me both."

The conversation hadn't quelled the nervousness that pulsed through his veins. It had lessened it immensely, but Hunk knew it would probably keep him up that night, at least for a few hours extra.

Nonetheless, Hunk would trust Keith and his instincts, and do his best to make sure their trip was as well supplied as they could make it.

They fell into a comfortable rhythm again, until their task was complete and checked over with a critical eye by Pidge as she hauled over the last few supplies; extra blankets and rations that would last them once the perishables ran out.

"Good. Shiro should be here soon." She said, patting Hunk on the back for a job well done. For Keith, she gave him an affectionate punch on the arm, which he returned with half as much strength. "Be careful out there."

"You know it." Keith promised, and that was that.

When Shiro emerged on deck, a trail of about three other crew mates behind him, he stepped away from Pidge, leaving her with a tousle of her hair. "Take care of the big guy for me, will you?"

She glanced over to Hunk, who'd been distracted by Lance as he climbed on deck, throwing his dramatic self around as he 'lamented' the loss of his lover that was the captain. Hunk laughed, loud and happy, and Keith must have gotten some sort of sappy look on his face, because Pidge made a disgusted noise and shoved him along.

"I will. He'll barely even miss you with me around." She teased.

"Everything ready?" Shiro asked, hooking the final strap of his gloves. "Did you finish the flag?"

"Finished and already on the line, ser!" She saluted. "All you have to do is point yourselves in the right direction."

"Fingers crossed." He mused.

The crew hoisted the dinghy overboard, careful not to spill any of the supplies. Once it was safely nestled in the water, and not in danger of flipping from the waves Lady pushed against it, Shiro, Keith, and the rest began to climb down the rope ladder.

"Lance told me where to meet, two weeks at the latest. If we're not there, then—"

"We'll wait a little longer." Pidge interrupted with a cheeky grin. "I believe in you, ser. Come back to us in one piece."

He lifted his prosthesis. "A bit late for that, but I'll try to keep the rest of me attached."

She turned her nose up at his joke, and he shooed her away from the railing before continuing the climb down.

Hunk, Lance, and Pidge lined the railings as Keith grabbed the oars, testing the feel of them with a determined look.

"He's always so intense." Lance huffed, pressing his cheek against his fist as he looked down upon them.

Pidge waggled her eyebrows, and Lance snorted. "You're _gross_ , pigeon. But I'm sure Hunk here can appreciate it."

Hunk's face flamed as they turned upon him, and he quickly hid the look in the sleeves of his shirt. "Stop!" He whined.

The two burst out into laughter, and the noise carried over the open water.

"Glad to see you're enjoying my absence already!" Shiro called, catching their attention. They'd already drifted a few knots away, and the three quickly composed themselves to see them off properly. "Don't let Lady burn in the meanwhile!"

"That's a definite 'maybe'!" Lance called back, waving both his hands over his head. "Be safe!"

Pidge hopped up and down as she waved goodbye, just to be sure they saw her. Hunk was the shyest, with his one handed wave, but Keith caught his eyes even across the distance between them and gave him one, self-assured nod, as if reaffirming his earlier promise.

It did wonders to loosen the tightness that had bundled at the base of Hunk's spine, and he squared his shoulders before nodding back, a smile adorning his lips.

They'd be back, one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awww hunk is thinking the 'l' word
> 
> so far i have up to chapter 15 planned so uh... pray for me. the chapter total may drop from 19 to 17? but that's because i sort of combined a few chapters and not because im cuttin content.... WE'LL SEE WHAT HAPPENS
> 
> see y'all saturday!


	14. XIV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> b a c k s t o r y

Almost as soon as the boat disappeared from the horizon like a fairy's whisper, and the sun had sunken low into the atmosphere and traded places with the moon, Hunk ambled back to Keith's room.

He wasn't sure if he was allowed to be in there with the latter gone, but he went there anyway, because he didn't have one of his own.

The room was much larger without Keith in it, and the blanket wasn't as cozy anymore, but it still helped to quell Hunk's anxiousness.

Hunk scrubbed at his eyes until colored blobs spotted his vision.

He didn't know what to do, if he was being honest with himself. He reached over to the desk and fiddled with a few of the inkwells until one tipped over and spilled across his palm. In his panic, he smeared it across the wooden desk and, cursing, tried to dab it away with his shirt sleeves.

In the end, he looked like the night sky had spilled across his arms; inky black tendrils soaking into the linen of his shirt and trailing up as far as his elbow.

"Whoops."

Hunk sighed heavily, looking down at his hands. And then, he began to laugh. There wasn't much else he could do— not when he looked like he'd fisted an oil barrel.

He _had_ wanted to snoop a little around Keith's room, maybe poke around at his bookshelf for a while, but he could do that another time. Instead, he wandered the halls in search of Lance.

The boat was strangely quiet, even though only five pirates were missing. The halls were void of the rambunctious stamping of feet he'd become familiar with. Under his boots, the wood creaked and groaned, but that was a noise he didn't think would ever go away. With every wave that passed across her hull, Lady hummed along to the beat.

He found Lance in the captain's study. Hunk wasn't sure if he'd ever _not_ find Lance there, or near there.

Lance didn't notice him come in, and only startled from his daydream when the door was slammed by a gust of wind.

"Hunk! How can I help you?" Lance stood in front of a mirror, and quickly fixed the lapels of his jacket before he turned to face his long-lost friend. "What on earth happened to you?"

Hunk's lips twinged upwards. "I got into a fight with a quill."

"I'm sure the other guy looks worse." Lance glanced at the mirror once more, and a look passed over his face. Forlorn, maybe? Hunk couldn't put his finger on the exact emotion, but it wasn't happy.

The hat on his head was Shiro's, Hunk recognized. Lance's thumb traced the rim before he shook his head and broke himself out of his reverie. He turned back to Hunk with a grin and motioned for him to follow. "Let's get you cleaned up, big guy."

Lance led him to the kitchens.

This is where they found Pidge, sitting cross-legged atop the counters as she shelled peanuts and shoved them into the corners of her mouth until it was full before she chewed them up all at once. When the two of them sauntered in, she froze like she'd been caught stealing from a King, only to relax as soon as she recognized the jingling jewelry Lance wore.

Lance rolled his eyes at her, playful more than condescending, and he shooed Hunk over to her as he searched cabinets.

Hunk climbed on the counter with Pidge, careful not to bang his head against the low ceiling.

She cracked a peanut with her back teeth, completely unbothered as half of it piled on her tongue. "What happened to you?"

"Fought a raven and it cast a spell on me." Hunk said, nodding sagely.

Pidge pfft'd, amused even if she didn't want to show it on her face. She offered Hunk a half-opened shell, which he gratefully accepted

This one tasted like it was salted beforehand, maybe a little too much. It had a strange flavor Hunk wasn’t used to when it came to nuts, like it had been rolled around in a few herbs inside the shell, but it wasn't a bad snack. He smacked his lips together.

"Tasty."

Pidge looked oddly proud. "I grew some of these myself. That one was roasted."

Lance spoke up from across the way, "I bet Hunk could make it better. He's a master of food."

Hunk rubbed at the back of his neck. Thankfully, the ink had long since dried and didn't transfer there.

Pidge shrugged her shoulders, shovelling a few more peanuts down her throat. Then, she threw an empty shell at Lance and triumphantly tossed her hands in the air when it hooked in his collar and disappeared down his shirt.

“I’m gonna kill you one of these days.” Lance said, without turning around. He huffed, untucking his shirt to dig out the peanut.

Pidge blew a raspberry behind his back and he flicked the shell back at her, beaning her right between the eyes.

Hunk snorted, quickly hushing himself when she shot a glare his way. “You two seem like good friends.” He said. “You must have been together forever, huh?”

“Me and that bird-thing? Pfft.” Lance turned back to the duo with a canister of oil and climbed on the other side of Hunk to get started on cleaning him up.

He dabbed at crucial points with a moistened rag, scrubbing at Hunk’s skin as he spoke. “We met her not long after Shiro scrounged _me_ up from the sea. She was all… _touchy_. Hated it when I tried to get to know her.”

“That’s ‘cause all you did was piss me off.” She huffed. “And you were nosy as all hell.”

“We met at a port.” Lance said, nearly talking overtop Pidge. “She was just as tiny then as she is now, but a lot more detached. I remember it clearly, really.”

Pidge rolled her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest to let him tell his story. There was no stopping him once he got started, no matter how hard she tried.

He spun a tale that was only a little over-exaggerated, but kept them interested effortlessly as it seemed his focus was fully on helping Hunk scrub the ink from the nooks and crannies of his thumbs.

It had been twilight, where the moon wasn’t shining as bright as she could have been because the sun was lingering at the very edges of the horizon. They’d landed days prior for supplies and so that Shiro could recruit a few new pirates to join their merry band.

Lance had decided to explore. He was still getting used to his sea-legs and, as much as he hated to admit it, needed a break from the ocean for just a few minutes.

And so he had wandered out towards the sparse trees that outlined the town to breathe in the heady scent of lumber and moss. He wouldn’t be missed from the ship for a few minutes, after all.

“And then, just when I was reaching my peak relaxation, she came bursting out of the woods.”

She, of course, being Pidge. Her hair had been dreadfully tangled in twigs and dirt, and her clothes were three sizes too big. On her back were dozens of smalls bags that were stuffed so full they were stretching the seams past the point of no return, and it looked like she was carrying a few that had already burst in her arms.

They’d stared at each other, startled by one another’s presence. Then, she narrowed her eyes at him, stood straight and tall, and asked him, _“Are you a pirate?”_

Lance sighed fondly. “It was fate, I tell you. Her eyes were like fire trying to burn my soul with that one question, and I knew that I just _had_ to bring her back to Shiro.”

“He dragged me there the entire way.” Pidge agreed, laughter hidden by more peanuts. “I had half a mind to kick him over a stump and leave him for the caterpillars, but…” She waved her hand around the air dismissively as she ducked her head to hide the embarrassment that flushed her cheeks. “He seemed nice. Too eager to be a hardened pirate. I knew he wouldn’t do anything to me.”

Hunk grinned, reaching over to pat her on the shoulder. “Lance just has that kind of air around him.”

“An _annoyin’_ air, is right.” She huffed, unable to go two minutes without snarking. All of the mushy words were getting to her. Lance could probably tell, too, if his shit-eating grin was anything to go off of.

Hunk hummed, not exactly in disagreement. “But, what made you want to join them?”

Pidge looked surprised by the question. “I— well…” She sighed then, and the mood turned serious. She dropped her shoulders, letting her fingers rake through the growing pile of peanut shells. “I have a grudge.”

“Oh?” Lance scooted closer, as close as he could without slipping off of the counter. “This is the first I’ve heard of this.”

She smiled, minutely. “It’s a grudge I’ve had for a while now. I’d been planning to join a crew for nearly a year before I met you.”

“How come?” Lance gently coaxed.

Pidge sighed again, struggling to word her thoughts correctly. “The galra. They took my father and brother— forever ago, it feels like. They wanted their ‘special skills’, and I guess their parents never told them to take no for an answer because… they just _took_ them.” She grit her teeth, and her palm tightened into a fist. “They told me that I should be honored to have been visited by the Galra and live. I swore to myself that I would get them back, and blow up a few Galra ships along the way.”

She jumped up, suddenly heated. “With this new information— a _rebellion_?” She tossed her hands in the air, a crazed laughed escaping her. “I could actually do that. I might actually get to see them again.”

Lance hopped down to join her on the floor, catching her by the shoulder. “You will see them again. I guarantee it.” He punched his fist into his palm. “And we’ll stop those damn Galra no matter the cost.”

“Can I ask… what the Galra wanted with your family?” Hunk asked, curiosity taking the better of him.

Pidge quickly began to dig around her pockets. She produced a worn and ragged piece of parchment and (gently) slapped it down on the counter between the three of them.

“They engineer incredible machines.” Her eyes seemed to sparkle as she traced the lines on the page. “My dad was… a genius. He could just _look_ at a material and know exactly how to make it fit— and my brother, Matt, he could make parameters bend to his will. Give him the right measurements, and he could make the ocean move whichever way he wanted it.”

She sighed, nostalgic. “He wanted to go to the moon someday. Touch the ground there.” She bit her lip, and cupped her hands in front of her as if the moon would float down and rest in her palms. “They both did.”

Before the boys could even begin trying to comfort her, she clenched her fists again. “Those damn Galra… They deserve what’s coming to them.”

Hunk nodded in agreement, though not as enthusiastically as Lance did.

She began to dig out another piece of paper. “You know— I think this entire crew has a grudge against the Galra, too.” A piece of charcoal was found in her back pocket and she began a quick sketch of what looked like an arm. “What Shiro wouldn’t give to get rid of them.”

Lance nodded, touching his right arm. “They’re trying their damndest to get rid of him, first.”

Pidge snorted. “They’ll have to try harder than sending weak ass vessels after us.” She swiped a few more times at the paper before she flipped it around so they could see. “Tell me what you think of this, Hunk.”

Hunk started, eyes widening. “Me? Uh…” He squinted down at the page, mumbling to himself as he took in and sorted the information. It was a marvelous build, and the materials needed would have to be crafted by… _gods_. And he told the two as much.

Pidge nodded in agreement. “This is what the Galra can make. Made this years ago, actually.” She folded the page. “That’s Shiro’s arm.”

Hunk furrowed his brow. “But— He’s Galra?”

Lance huffed a laugh. “He’d be so offended if he heard that.” He shook his head. “No, Shiro is definitely the farther thing from Galra you’ll get on this sea.”

“His _arm_ is Galra, though. “Pidge said. “He was, uh…”

“Liberated from a Galra slave ship.” Lance finished for her. It was common knowledge on their vessel. Was always one of the first things he told new crewmembers, actually, just to get rid of the surprise early. “They experimented on him and… I guess they liked whatever it was they found because they chopped of his righty and gave him that instead.”

Hunk winced at the blasé explanation and Lance sympathetically cut off the explanation. “Basically… we all have a reason to want to get rid of the Galra. No matter what happens.”

Pidge nodded her head, repeating Lance’s earlier words. “No matter the cost.”  

The two of them were getting so excited that Hunk kind of felt bad that he only had a passing interest in aiding the rebellion. Lance, though, seemed to catch on and gave him a small smile.

“We won’t let anything happen to you, though, Hunk. You’re too important to our sailing master.”

Hunk turned bright red, and Lance snickered. “Don’t pretend like I don’t see the way you look at each other.”

“You’re gonna make the poor guy melt, Lance.” Pidge chided, though she did laugh at Hunk’s expense. “Besides, they probably haven’t done more than…” She pursed her lips and made exaggerated kissing noises.

At Hunk’s long, embarrassed, awkward silence, the two shared a surprise shriek.

“Hunk— did you…” Lance bumped his fists together. “With Keith??”

Hunk made a noise that sounded almost like he wanted to be struck dead where he stood. “Define…” He bumped his fists together like Lance had.

Pidge lost it at that, and had to keel over the counter so that she wouldn’t hurt herself as her body trembled with how hard she was laughing.

Lance grabbed Hunk’s other hand, and began to excitedly scrub it clean. “No— but… when did this happen? Did you see him and just canoodle on the beach? Give me _details_ , man.”

“ _Lance_.” Hunk admonished, cheeks still burning a brilliant red. “It wasn’t like that. It just… happened.”

“As sex tends to occur, yes.” Lance agreed, and Pidge gagged in the background. “When?”

“Um…” Hunk coughed into his fist. “Last night?”

Lance looked almost like he was going to pop from how wide his eyes got. “In the infirmary??”

“Wh— no! We, uh… went back to his room.”

“Holy shit.” Lance said, breathlessly laughing. “I can’t believe you and Keith... In my boat!”

“It’s not yours, technically.” Pidge piped up, as she finally was able to calm down long enough to breathe.

“Little details, Pidge.”

Hunk smiled, a dopey look growing across his face as he thought of Keith. “I don’t think he would want me to share more, but…” He shrugged his shoulders. “I think it’s going well.”

And well… call Lance whatever you want, but he would always be there to support his friends in their love life.

“I may not agree with your choice, but you look happy.” Lance said, leaning forward to squint at Hunk’s face. “Yep. Happy. So, I approve. He’d better not make you cry, though, or else I’ll give him such an ass-kicking, he’ll wish I shot _him_ in the ass.”

Hunk groaned. “You’re never going to let that go.”

“It was funny!”

“Tell that to my buttcheek.” Hunk said, lifting his healing leg.

Pidge laughed again, and the two boys joined her. The three began to clean up then, as the noise from the mess hall signaled that dinner was starting, and none of them really wanted to be caught in _that_ whirlwind.

Hunk’s hands were scrubbed free of ink, finally, and the three made their escape up to the top deck, towards the broken bowsprit so that they could watch the stars pass as they sailed along the calm sea.

“The ocean must be tired today.” Lance mused, watching as Pidge tossed her discarded peanut shells into the wake Lady cut through the water.

“What’s that thing your Pa used to say?” Hunk asked, clearing his throat. “‘The ocean isn’t people, Lance.’”

Lance laughed, taken by surprise at the sudden imitation. “Oh lord, you sounded exactly like him.”

“Your family knew each other?” Pidge asked, pulling herself up to sit on the gunwale.

“Something like that.”

“We met when we were _babies_ it feels like.” Hunk said, leaning over the railing. “I didn’t really talk to him until maybe their hundredth stop through town.”

Lance had spoken to him first, actually. Hunk was on the beach, throwing starfish back into the water, and Lance wandered over to pester him about what he was doing, why he was doing it, and if he could help. Hunk, of course, said yes.

“United by starfish. It’s like a love story.” Lance said, fluttering his eyelashes.

They grew to become friends so quickly that they told each other _everything_. Including Lance’s secret desire to elope with the ocean.

“That was all he ever talked about.” Hunk reminisced. “He just wanted to take a boat out and let the waves guide him.”

“To stand up and feel the salt on my skin.” Lance added, stepping up onto the gunwale to spread his arms wide and feel the briny air pass over him. Hunk quickly grabbed onto his legs so he wouldn't fall forward and into the ocean. “That had always been my dream.” Then, he frowned.

“I took a boat out, once… Like I always said I would. But I guess the ocean was angry that day because... “ Lance scratched at his head. “Actually I don’t even _remember_ what happened. I just remember being pulled under and seeing nothing but dark blue, even when I closed my eyes.”

He vaguely gestured over his shoulder. “And then Shiro saved me. I guess I got my wish, though.”  

Hunk wrapped an arm loosely over Lance’s shoulder, and Pidge slides across the railing to urge him closer, patting him on the arm. She opened her mouth, like she wanted to give him a few words of comfort, but she must not have liked what her brain conjured up because she closed it with a sharp scowl.

Which was fair, because there was nothing really _to_ say. Hunk was definitely _not_ going to mention how devastated his family had been when Lance had never come home. Or how they waited for so long, at the risk of losing their customers, on the chance that he would come back to them.

Hunk had no clue what happened to them after that, but he knew they wouldn’t want Lance to feel even worse about his disappearance than he already did.

The mood must have gotten to him though, because Lance quickly shook them away and smacked his hands across his cheeks. “What’s done is done. No changing the past— just have to keep going.” Lance grinned, bright and true, as if he hadn’t been _this_ close to falling into a depressive state.

Pidge rolled her eyes at him. “You’re like seaweed that always bounces back.”

“What does that even mean?”

The two began to half-heartedly argue, and Hunk _would_ have broken it up if he hadn’t been distracted by the bright pillar of purple smoke that flew high towards the sky, off of their starboard. He squinted into the darkness, quickly grabbing the two of them by their arms. “What’s that?”

The two fell quiet, and Pidge sucked in an alarmed breath through her teeth.

In the distance, a boat cut through the water at alarming speed, illuminated by lanterns and torches so much that it seemed to be on fire. A barge straight from hell.

The flag itself was hard to identify, but Hunk was sure those colors would begin to haunt him in his dreams.

Galra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you tell i really love the garrison trio? because i really love the garrison trio
> 
> i May have to take a break between either this chapter and 15 OR between 15 and 16, just b/c it's still very much so Unwritten.....
> 
> i'll try my best but also next week is finals week so.... *fingers crossed* hope you enjoyed!!!


	15. XV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise guest this chapter ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> this is where the prewarned 'prose'yness comes in, so this chapter might read a little bit differently than the rest,,, hope you still enjoy it!

Pirates flood the deck, untying knots and dropping sails faster than Hunk can comprehend. For a moment, he’s terrified. He’s staring over the edge, gripping it so tight his bones hurt, but he can’t find Keith in the dark. He can’t find Keith, but he has to do _something_.

He’s almost about to dive over the edge by pure reflex before Lance is gathering him up and shoving him towards the stairs.

“We’ve gotta move, big guy! Help Pidge with the canons.”

And then Hunk remembers all at once that Keith wasn’t thrown overboard, that he’s relatively safe in the middle of the ocean on an espionage mission. All at once, he deflates as the sudden spike of adrenaline is replaced with pure relief.

“Should we land?” Pidge asked, pulling out a map. She’d put off putting it away since Keith and Shiro left, but she was glad now for its convenience. “There’s an island not too far off from here.”

Lance look towards the ship that was careening towards them. Lady may be fast, but she wouldn’t be able to outrun the Galra in a fair fight, especially in the dead of night with a barely-there breeze.

“Aye. Head towards land, and we’ll just have to fend them off along the way.”

Hunk wrung his hands together. “What if they fight us when we land?”

“They definitely will.” Pidge cut in, whistling sharply at the crow’s nest before gesturing in the direction of the island with a few hand motions. “Lady can’t take another beating like last time, though.”

Lance nodded. “Our best bet would be a fight to the death on a beach.” He laughed, flipping his hat off his head. “How dramatic.”

“Only the best for our stand-in Captain.” Pidge saluted, and the two split up. Pidge took Hunk with her below deck, to the canons.

There were already a handful of pirates there, filling them with powder and setting out more kegs just in case. They followed each other like ants, carrying and dropping off canonballs as they went.

“You know how to work one of these?” Pidge sat him down in front of a menacing beast, shining with polish even in the night. Hunk ran his hands across the cascabel, the very end of the cannon.

“I’ll figure it out.” He said, after only a moment’s hesitation, and Pidge gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before she gave him a quick run-through. She showed him how to clear out the tube with the long, blackened cleaning wand, as well as how to fill it with the right amount of powder and how to load the shell.

He figured out aiming fairly quickly, though that was probably a relative assumption. It would all depend on how well he was in battle, after all.

She showed him how to fix the key and lanyard twice, before putting his hand on the wire key and squeezing it tight. “Pull this when you’re ready to fire. Someone will be around to help you clean the tube every so often, so make sure you shoot only after the person in front of you has, or else you’ll just lose time.”

Hunk tensely nodded his head.

“Don’t worry so much. It’s always intimidating your first time, but I’m sure you figured that out with Keith, huh?” She flitted away with a teasing wink, and Hunk couldn’t gather his words fast enough to retort before she disappeared to help the rest of the crew up top.

Hunk breathes in a deep breath and squares his shoulders. This would technically be the first time he’d be pulling his weight as a pirate, and not just a prisoner. Or… stowaway?

He’d do his best to make his crew proud.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

The battle itself was quick as a flash grenade, and just as disorienting. Hunk was firing shots as fast as he could, taking aim from the tiny holy he’d stuck his cannon out of. He barely needed help loading the weapon, and soon ran out of cannon shells faster than people could bring them to him.

Then, they struck land, and struck it hard. Because they were the first to reach the island, they were the first to jump off the boats and meet the Galra with pistols on the beach as they jumped off to try and overrun them, without running their own boat aground.

Staying so far off from shore hindered them more than helped, though, as most of the crew was shot down as they tried to wade through the water to get close enough for hand to hand.

Hunk was there, too, but not with a gun. Instead, he held off their enemies as they got too close, making sure to stay close to Lance’s side.

At one point, he even switched gears to pull back their injured to the opposite side of the ship, away from the fire, to patch them up. He bit back his queasiness as he helped stitch up someone’s side, cut with a sabre from a Galra pirate who’d strayed too close.

He couldn’t handle most of the gore, though, and soon fell back again with a green face.

The battle was over quick, just like his first with the Galra. He prayed it would be their last encounter with that specific brand of pirates, but the universe did have a way of going against his wishes, didn’t it?

They retreated, leaving behind any that weren’t quick enough to hop aboard again, and even those that were left chose to dive in the water and swim back the way they came, rather than to take their chances with their enemy.

Hunk tiredly plopped down on the sand, head between his knees.

That was how Lance and Pidge found him as they took stock of damages. Lance pressed his hand against Hunk’s shoulder and squeezed as his means of showing comfort, even as he talked repairs with other crew mates. Pidge tiredly dragged herself to sit beside him, flopping backwards until she was flat against the stand, without even a care of all the granules she’d have to pick out of her hair later on.

“Was it… Is it just me or was that heinously brief?” Hunk asked, pressing his palms together until his heartbeat settled.

“That’s generally how the galra work.” Pidge said, inhaling deep to get her lungs working properly again. “Think animals: They track and wear us down little by little until we’re easier targets.”

Hunk paled a bit, and Lance coughed a laugh into his fist.

“Don’t worry, big guy. Like I said before— Keith would kill me if I let anything happen to you. Especially since you’re…” He made an obscene gesture.

Before Hunk could properly retort, or combust on the spot, a hush fell over the beach. From the foliage, heads poked from the bushes and trees.

They seemed more curious than deadly, so Lance didn’t order to have them shot on the spot. Instead, he fixed his collar and took a few steps forward, spreading his arms wide in a placating gesture.

“You are pirates!” A voice cried, excitedly. A person burst through the crowd of bushes, presumably the speaker, clapping her hands excitedly.

Her entire being was beautifully brown. Her hair, cut and curved to fit like triangles on either side of her head, seemed directly attached to her large, hoop earrings with how big her hairstyle was. They reflected the starlight back on her peers, revealing that they all were just as brown as she was.

She had shoulders that could carry the world— incredibly broad and strong-looking, and she seemed more top-heavy than not.

Lance glanced back to Pidge, who shrugged her shoulders at him. “I suppose… we are pirates, yes.”

Her eyes sweep over their band, and she quickly zeros-in on the injured. “You need help.” She said then, not unkindly, but matter-of-factly. Rather than waiting for them to retort, she gestures behind her to the bushes of eyes. “We must help them!”

“Shay…” A hand laid heavy on her shoulder, pulling her back a few paces. “You know not what ill these strangers will bring.”

A murmur rose through the bush crowd in waves, and Lance took a cautious step back, subtly reaching for his gun hidden beneath his coats.

“We _must_ help, Rax. It’s—” She paused, searching for the words so visibly that her eyes flickered back and forth, from her, to the pirates on her shore. “It’s the right thing to do.”

Rax scowled, but Shay took that as a good thing. She whirled back around to them, hands clasped together, and Lance released his weapon with a soft, relieved sigh.

“Please— follow us. We will keep you safe.”

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

“What about our boat?”

“Worry not about that. It’s a rarity that the Galra land on this side of our island. That’s not where they pick up our production.”

“Production?”

“Metals.” She said, leading them through the foliage and into what looked to be a man-made cave. The walls were eerily smooth, and faintly smelled of a blacksmithery. “Silver.”

Hunk nearly tripped over his feet, and Lance misstepped, nearly sending his foot careening against the wall.

They pinwheeled, almost smacking each other as they gripped each other's shoulder for balance. Lance huffed, blowing a tuft of hair from his eyes. “Say that again?”

Shay tossed a glance back at them, fingers trailing along the seamless wall until she she found what she was looking for. The wall parted with just a bit of tugging, and she piled everyone inside. “Silvers and various metals! That is the northern half of our island. Here, in the south, we are free to hide away from our captors.”

Then, she winced. “As free as we can get, I suppose.”

Rax, her brother, chuffed and cut between her and the rest of the pirates. “Bite your tongue and be silent.”

Shay shrugs her shoulders at them behind Rax’s back as he continues on. “Come. Let us help your injured.”

 

∾∾∾∾∾∾

 

It’s hours later that the fear of getting caught fades, and the pirates find themselves settling down for a long night while they think of a plan.

Lance steals Pidge away to survey the island— to stake out their situation. If they were to be trapped there forever, they’d atleast know where to hit the Galra where it hurts.

That left Hunk to stay in the hidden home and get to know Shay. She was, in a word, wonderful. Her island had been taken from her people long before she was born, just on the outskirts of Galra territory. This wasn’t the one she was born on, but…

“I’m lucky at all to have been moved with my entire family.” She said, a hand drifting over her heart. “Maybe one day, everyone can move freely— as they wish.”

As she spoke, she watched over her grandmother as they shovelled out food to the injured pirates. It smelled strong; meaty and full of ingredients they probably didn’t want to think about ingesting, but everyone ate what they were given.

Hunk followed Shay around her home, until she led him out of a tiny passage they both had to squeeze through. The entire time, she told him about herself. About her life story, and her dreams.

They breached the surface and sat upon a hilltop, much like the one Hunk used to live near back on _his_ island. Their feet swung free against the dirt as they watched the moon cross the sky, and Shay reached her hand up to feel the stars.

“One day, I want to explore the sea as you do.” She said, clenching her fist against a constellation. If life had been kinder, and the stars more forgiving, she probably could have pulled the entire sky down to wrap it around herself as she pleased. “I want to feel the sky under my fingertips.”

Hunk has to bite his tongue to stop it from making promises he can’t keep. If he _could_ , he would probably offer her a spot on the ship, to take her along with him for this ride and take her as close to the sky as they can get.

Her eyes sparkle like she knows he would offer it, too, but she just tosses him a kind smile.

Instead, he lifts his shoulders in a sigh that wracks his bones. “I think… I know someone who feels that exact same way.”

“Oh?”

He nods, and an unbidden smile lightens his features. “Keith, our helmsman. He’s never really said anything poetic like that—” Out loud, anyway. “—But I think he would agree with you. The sea is dangerous, but he just… belongs there, you know? He’s happy there.”

Shay hums, hugging her knees. “My brother, Rax. He doesn’t like me to think this way. It is dangerous, but I won’t stop dreaming until it comes true. The Galra can’t make me.”

She reaches for the sky again and her eyes drift shut. As if answering her call, the wind picks up around them, sending her hoops dangling against her skin.

“I want to be happy like your Keith is happy.” She declares.

Something about the possessive ‘your’ makes Hunk’s chest feel bubbly.

Thy talk about everything, sitting under the moon. It rises high in the sky, until it paints their skin silver and the stars leave bursts of color behind their eyelids.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Shay motions for him to follow her back down, eventually.

“If you ever return here, I hope that you will find me again. Your company is kind to me.”

“I _will_ return.” He promises. He would persuade his captain as much as he could— if not for a personal visit, then for the supplies they could take not only for themselves but to disable the Galra. Her people were expert metal-workers.

Shay places her hand— large and warm (and kind of like his own)— against his shoulder. “I hope that we can become friends.”

He returns the touch with a wide grin. “We already are.”

They’d barely known each other for hours, but Hunk’s heart weeped for her, and for the rest of them. The more he heard about the Galra, the more pissed off he got that they roamed the oceans as they pleased, taking people’s homes just because they wanted to.

Shay left him shortly thereafter, gone in a blink. Hunk idly wondered if time was beginning to move faster now that he wasn’t at a steady slope in his life. He felt like he was flying through the hours without even blinking— there was so much to think about.

He rubbed at his chin, and a burst of red flashed through his mind. He hoped Keith was taking care of his wound, no matter how minor it was.

He hoped that he came back safe.

Lance found him, staring a hole into the wall, and plopped down beside him with a weary sigh.

“What a day.”

Pidge climbed on Hunk’s other side, and they all leaned heavy against the wall. “What a life.” She corrected.

“Did you find out what you needed?”

Lance shrugged a shoulder, leaning to rest against Hunk’s side. “Found out that this isn’t the island we were looking for. Similar as hell, though.” He huffed, picking his fingers through his hair. “Apparently there’s a whole cropping of islands exactly like this one, and they all supply the Galra with as much metal as they could ever need. We have some sort of luck, that is sure.”

“Shit luck.” Pidge murmured, rubbing at the back of her neck. She seemed dead-tired, sprawled out against the cold, metal floor. “They _did_ try to rebel. The north half, that is. Plenty escaped, but the south didn’t get that chance. Now the Galra are cracking down on them.”

Hunk grimaced. No doubt, cruel things were happening behind the curtains here, and he didn’t even want to think about it.

It’s already late at night, and probably close to morning, now. The air was tense, and Hunk had never heard the pirates this quiet, other than when they’d crashed into the cove and were scared of being arrested. Even then, the fear that was soaking into his skin from them and settling into his bone was nothing he’d ever experienced from the crew.

He was tired, and they hadn’t even started yet.

Lance snagged a map from Pidge’s hip and rolled it out in front of them. “We can’t stay here.” He said, finally.

Pidge hummed her assent and, despite how much he didn’t want to, Hunk had to agree.

Even forgetting Keith and Shiro in the middle of Galra territory, and having to meet up with them at a later date, finding an unknown band of pirates hiding in the middle of an island that was planning a revolt wasn’t good for _any_ side. Theirs, Shay's,  _or_ the Galra's.

Plus, Shay and her people could survive without them. Shiro and Keith could not. It was just a simple fact.

“We’ll leave in a few hours. In the meanwhile, you two rest up and gain some of that lost energy back. We’ll have to sail like hell out of here, and we don’t have our best navigator with us.”

“I’m telling Keith you said that.” Pidge said, immediately. Lance sputtered out his excuses, trying to backtrack, but Pidge ignored him by very maturely covering her ears.

The two dissolved to wrestling across the floor, and Hunk crossed his legs so that they wouldn’t crush his toes.

Shay wanders over at the fuss, and Hunk ushers her to sit down with him.

She took one look at his face before she wisely nodded her head. “You’re leaving.”

Guilt washed over him, but it was assuaged away with one of her smiles. “Your visit was brief, but I hope your journey is fruitful. And your… Keith, it was? I am certain he will find his way to you safely.”

Hunk turned pink, and Shay laughed at him.

She promised that if fate was kind and they happened to come this direction, she would keep them here for as long as it took to reunite their group.

Lance, after winning his scuffle with Pidge and running away before she could enact her revenge, begins to spread the plan to the crew.

Two weeks was their deadline.

That was two weeks that a million things could go wrong, or two weeks that one thing could go right.

Hunk was good at waiting games, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen shay was hard as hell to try to write but i'll be damned if i get accused of not trying my hardest to portray her right ;w; i LOVE shay sm
> 
> i swear to god reading this chapter is like having a fever dream, too. i was a little drunk when i wrote it and also a little weepy bc i kept listening to sad songs asljdlajsdhjla dont mind dont mind
> 
> now i MAY take a short break between this chapter and the next, which is kinda perfect since.... everyone is kinda separated for two weeks *thinking emoji* its like a sign or something. 
> 
> i'll try my BEST to post on time, but if not it'll probably just be a week or two at the LATEST until i post again. I really want to finish this fic before the year ends
> 
>  
> 
> sidenote: can you tell that im weak for hunk/shay, platonic or not?


	16. XVI.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and suddenly
> 
> a flashback

Cobblestone brick, half frozen from the frigid air, seemed to be what would act as Shiro’s bed tonight. As he flopped down on the unforgiving stone, blood dripped from his nose, spilling between his metal fingertips as he tried to quell the flow.

It was tender to the touch, and no doubt purple and black even in the twilight. Hell, it probably matched the night sky perfectly.

In his other hand, a bag of coins echoed loud, barely covered by the rustling of hay as the horses wearily regarded him from their stalls.

Currently, he was just outside of a tavern; half drunk but sobering quickly. The stables that made up the back of the bar were hardly filled to the brim, housing only a handful of horses that were the furthest thing from purebred.

He chose the corner furthest away from them all. No point in spooking them when he just wanted a nap before he had to run from the law again.

The cold curled around him, and he tugged his coat on tighter to scare it off his bones. It wasn’t cold enough for it to start snowing, but he was sure that his blood would start freezing to his fingertips if he stopped moving them long enough.

A noise from the opposite corner from him had him freezing like a statue, eyes squinting into the darkness. His hand, free after dropping the coin bag, strayed towards his waistband, for the dulled and chipped knife he kept in his back pocket. Just in case.

As his eyes filtered through the dark, another pair stared him down. Neither body moved, waiting for the other to make a move first, until the body in the shadows shivered so hard that they couldn’t help the groan that escaped their cracked lips.

Shiro dropped his hand. They sounded young, whoever they were.

Then again, he looked _older_ than he was already, aged some five or ten years by the healed over wounds across his face and the way he held himself.

Still, there was nothing much that a shadow dweller could do to him when they were freezing to death, anyway.

The eyes watched him as he stood, slow not out of caution but because everything _hurt_. From his ribs that had been punched in to his knuckles that had knocked a few teeth loose.

He trailed his aching hand across the wall of the tavern until he stood underneath a lantern, hooked to the wall by metal hinges and a delicate glass pane to keep out the weather.

He eyed the distance, hopped up on the tips of his toes, and knocked the entire structure clean off its hinges. It fell with a loud crash, startling the animals off to the side, and he quickly gathered the flaming candle before it burned out.

The heat didn’t burn him, but he probably wouldn’t be able to hold anything with his metal hand for a while. As he ambled back to his spot, marked clearly with drops of blood that had slipped free, he kicked along tufts of hay with the tips of his boots. Still, the eyes in the shadows watched him.

It wasn’t until he rounded out the gathered fodder and dropped the candle in it that he actually saw the face that housed the eyes staring into his skull.

A young man, swaddled in paltry clothes that barely did anything to stave off the weather. They looked like hand-me-downs but just as easily could have been stolen from clotheslines here and there.

He gestured the figure closer, but didn’t beg for him to join him. Instead, he sprinkled dirt around his makeshift firepit to control the flames, holding his fingers close until they almost burned.

His nose had stopped bleeding, but he could feel his lungs aching. Either from the beating they took or from some sort of sickness, he wasn’t sure.

He leaned back against the wall, letting his eyes drift shut. His hair, long and wiry and tangled, tickled his neck. He kept his eyes shut when he heard the tiny little thing in the corner slowly crawl towards the heat.

He, the shadow dweller, didn’t sidle close to him, but obviously were desperate for heat as he curled in a ball near the fire. Yet, despite how tiny he was, he could tell that he was far from pathetic. From what he could see just squinting past his eyelashes, he had more than one knife stashed along his belt, and a corroded gun that would give someone a hell of a headache if it were bashed just right against someone’s temple.

His stomach rumbled, then, and he huffed a sigh. There goes the money he just ‘borrowed’.

His eyes opened fully when the figure across from him straightened up from the ball he'd been trying to mimic, and he half-crawled half-dragged himself back to their corner.

Before he could question what he was doing, a ratty cloth was tossed at him, tied tight with an impressive knot of twine. It landed neatly in his lap, and he shot an incredulous look up at the other.

He shrugged his shoulders at him, tugging a hand through his hair that was equally as tangled as his own.

“Thanks.” Was all the explanation he offered, and really, it was the only one Shiro needed.

He picked at the string until it unraveled in his palm. Inside of the pack were three loaves of bread, burnt on the bottoms and icy cold.

Food was food, though. Shiro ripped one of the loaves in half and tossed the remainder back at his new friend.

“Thanks.” He echoed back, and a smile twinged at his lips when the other shoved the newly broken bread in his mouth.

His eyes took on a reflective hue, shining back at him the purpling sky over top a sharp grey. Shiro kind of liked the way they looked at him, too; wary just because they didn’t know each other, yet accepting in a way that only came about from breaking bread over a fire that would surely get them arrested if they got caught.

He shed his coat, and then offered it to the shivering form. “Shiro.” He was met with surprise, and he gave a smile just to soften his features.

Dirty fingers grabbed the lapels, and Shiro vaguely recognized the branding mark on the back of his hand as Galra. Inwardly, he shrugged because hell— his own personal brand was the prosthetic arm that weighed him like an anchor everywhere he went.

After swallowing the bread he'd scarfed down, and curling the heavy leather around him like a cloak, the figure sat up a bit straighter and looked him in the eye. “Keith.”

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Shiro later learned that he and Keith had seen each other many times before sharing their names, yet neither recognized the other until that moment.

Passing by in the streets of the nameless town, bumping shoulders even. Brawling in a bar fight before being tossed out by their belt loops into the mud. Working fields as cheap labor for a rich family in exchange for a warm meal in the winter.

He probably wouldn’t admit it aloud unless specifically asked, but Shiro believed in fate. And fate had rubbed its greedy little hands all over the two of them the moment they’d been born, probably.

Shiro and Keith met up more and more after that freezing cold night. Half on accident, but never unwelcomed. That was strange to Shiro because he hadn’t met and kept a friend even before he’d been captured by the Galra.

With Keith it was easy, though. They soon adapted to watching the other’s back as if it were second nature and they’d been together forever. Shiro didn’t normally seek out fights just to fight, despite what the public may think of him, and he appreciated the back-up immensely, especially when Keith decked a guy before they even reached for Shiro’s throat.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Their lives changed again when, one bright and sunny morning in the middle of nowhere, on an island that they didn’t remember washing up on, they found a boat.

The crew was half starved and the Captain was nowhere to be found. The boat was decrepit herself, with rotting wood along her underside to perfectly mimic rotting lungs. Shiro was surprised she’d been in the ocean long enough to make it this far.

Shiro raked sand from his bangs before he tossed a look at Keith. Keith blinked back at him as he tightened the straps of his gloves, so different from that first night. His face was fuller, despite the fact they hadn’t had a job in months, and his stance had a confident sway that Shiro hadn’t noticed before.

“What do you think?” He asked, running his hand along the fraying wood. He had no clue that wood could do that. “Think we could fix her up?”

Keith made his way to the wheel, which was in much better condition than the rest of the boat. He turned it a few degrees, and the boat squealed in protest. “I doubt they’ll just let us take it.” He said, but he had a shine to his eyes.

Shiro found a left behind hat and brushed a few hermit crabs from the rim before he tossed it on Keith’s head. “Just leave that bit of magic to me.”

It turns out that, if no one was around to see them, they _could_ just take it. It was more than difficult to sail with half-dead pirates that couldn’t climb the ropes to trim the sails if they wanted to, but Shiro and Keith made do. They’d never experienced the wind in their faces quite like this, on their _own_ ship.

Keith loved it. He’d never sailed before, but the dizzying eternality of the blue waves meeting the blue sky was addicting in a way that made his ribs ache with how breathless it made him.

He didn’t need to know anything else about the ship. He let Shiro worry about fixing her up, finding a crew, and making sure they wouldn’t get arrested for riding the waves as they did. It was hardly easy, but somehow Shiro got the permits and papers he needed— _so_ many papers— and he let Keith ride free.

He wasn’t sure how to repay that kindness, but he’d probably follow Shiro to the ends of the Earth for it.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

And soon, they began to think of Lady as their home. Even if he griped about the mermaid in the front that never blinked (“Because she’s made of wood, Keith.” Shiro had laughed.) and was always a looming presence over everyone; whether they were in front of her face or behind her back.

He kind of missed her, whenever he thought about it. She’d been a constant since the beginning, but Keith had learned long ago that few things stayed that way.

Bullets of water cut through the salty air, soaking the tiny crew in its frigid wake.

They’d been in the middle of an angry storm for what felt like weeks, and Keith forgot what it felt like to have dry toes. Half of their supplies had been lost to the depths, and they were just lucky that the maps hadn’t flown off in the wind along with it.

A pit stop had to be planned much sooner than they hopped, and it obviously frustrated their captain by the ragged way he held himself, fingers straying to his forelock until it tangled around his knuckles.

The storm had stolen two of their days away, but they just had to believe that they’d be able to make it to land before the worst happened. Keith never really much trusted in the power of prayer, unfortunately.

Keith steered them through the arching waves, steady and solid where the wind was choppy and unpredictable. There were few landmarks to help him carve his way through the sea, but he never needed them before.

His gut generally knew the way itself. Maybe that was his version of praying.

In the distance, a flat thing of an island cut through the horizon. Even from where they were, far out in the water, it looked ominous and seedy. That only meant they were in the right place.

“Come about. Remember the plan?” Shiro’s palm rested heavy on his shoulder, and a firm squeeze pulled him out of his focus.

“Aye. Keep hidden and find whatever supplies we can take while you run off and get yourself killed.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. “I never knew you to be the dramatic one, Keith.”

He shrugged a shoulder, the one that didn’t have a hand on it. “I got it from _your_  suitor.” He said, and then lifted his expression to show he was only teasing.

Shiro hardly even needed it, though, as he left Keith with a sound pat on the back.

While Keith found supplies, Shiro would sit himself in a seedy pirate hub and find all information he could before he blew his cover. He had a few connections here and there, but they probably wouldn’t help much in this particular place. Even the water seemed to recoil from the grimy shore.

He pulled their band into a cropping of sharp rocks that probably would have maimed anyone else at the wheel, and the five worked quickly to hide any of their insignia and anything worth stealing in case someone traveled out this far.

In the corner of his eye, just a couple of feet away, sat the entrance to a cove that was eerily similar to the one that changed his life. He kept his eyes from it, before his heart started yearning for warm hands and that beautiful smile he'd become accustomed to.

The storm wouldn’t be letting up this night, Keith was sure. He caught Shiro before he separated from the group and looked him in the eye. “Watch your back.”

“Always.” Shiro promised, and the two parted with little fuss. Their words had become promises hidden between the lines, Keith had realized years ago.

They each had their own role to play, now, and then they could go back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay backstory
> 
> i had a real fuckin problem trying to write this chapter (specifically the end where they infiltrate the galra ship) but i'm happy with what i produced tbh. i LIVE for backstories so i hope this satisfies! <3 sorry for missing the last deadline but i'm so glad i didnt miss another one
> 
> next chapters will definitely post on time! (or maybe even earlier if i finish them fast enough)


	17. XVII.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm up all night to get lucky

Hunk was _awful_ at waiting games. He had worn a hole in his headband with how much he fidgeted with it from worry, and he was so distracted with his own thoughts that the others had to repeat themselves to him every time they spoke to him. It was kind of irritating— for both sides!

The deadline— that two weeks that they'd agreed upon— had come. And then it went, and now it's three days past then, and still they haven't heard a lick of news about their Captain and Helmsman.

Hunk eventually finished those projects he'd started in the infirmary. Given how much free time he had, he _needed_ to keep his hands busy. He varnished the wood and made sure it was silky smooth to the touch, but he held off giving them away until _everyone_ was there to receive them at the same time.

For Keith's box, he built in sheaths for the smaller knives he kept hidden in every corner of his bedroom. It wasn't very practical, but the knives looked more sentimental, anyway.

Speaking of Keith's bedroom, Hunk had more or less stolen it as his own in the subsequent days after they embarked on their quest. It was after they left Shay's island in the dead of night that he shambled through the dark halls, leaving Lance and Pidge in Shiro's study with a tired sigh, and found his way to the heavy oak door of the private room.

He'd slept in there, night after night, ever since. It had been a long two weeks, but the smell of Keith that had embedded in the sheets never faded.

He... may have also picked through every leaf of paper and every corner of every drawer that he could get his hands on. The bookshelf, which had taken up half of the space in the room, was filled with water damaged pages that were crumpled from lack of upkeep and growing salt crystals in more than a few places. Half of the spines were scratched, and Hunk didn't want to pull out the books lest the fall to dust right in his hands.

Instead, he read the titles of what he could. Most were just map books, which was something he expected, but others were about the stars. More still were about the sea. Hunk almost wanted to read them, to figure out if he could learn something that he could have in common with Keith, but he had been distracted by the letters piled away in a drawer of the desk.

He skimmed the words over as he chewed his fingernails, a nervous habit he'd had since birth it felt like. The scripture was rushed, but probably would have been neat if the person holding the quill— Keith— was actually interested in what he was writing down.

The writing was curt. Straight to the point, and simple to understand, even though Hunk hadn't a clue what it was referencing. At the bottom of the page was a seal, stamped with the sigil that Hunk recognized from Shiro's infinite papers.

Definitely business, then.

He learned everything he could learn about Keith from his room during that lulling time period. Which, frankly, wasn't much. As extravagant the room had been when Hunk first stepped inside, it was basically superficial. They were mostly bare necessities that came with his life of piracy, but fancied up because of his status.

In the end, it was a simple room with a bed, a desk (that he steered clear of after the ink incident), and a bookshelf.

The most he'd learned from there was that Keith liked the stars as much as he liked the sea, but also that he liked knives just as much.

He'd learned more about Keith just from holding his hand, if he were being honest.

A whistle sounded from above, and feet began to stamp across the deck. A signal that they were dropping anchor.

Hunk retied the knot of his headband and flipped on his jacket (which he had technically stolen from Shiro's closet). Once they landed, they would find Shay again and hide out from the Galra while they figured out a plan to find the rest of their beloved crew. Hell, while they were there they could probably even liberate the entire island, if they stole enough supplies.

He met with Pidge on the way up the stairs, and tossed her a sound grin that she echoed back to him. "Big day."

"Sure is. But I'd be surprised if Shiro and Keith weren't just waiting for us on shore." She laughed, waving down Lance as he oversaw the dropping of the anchor. Then, she dropped her voice an octave, as an imitation of Keith, "'What took you so damn long'?"

When they get close enough, Lance pats Hunk on the back and pulls him close in a one-armed hug. His eyes look tired, but Hunk doesn't say anything. He's sure he doesn't look any better. Pidge holds her shoulders high against her neck, until they're nearly at her ears, and, of course, neither boy brings up that.

They would need some sort of blessing to be that lucky.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

It comes as a surprise, then, that after they clambor off of their ship walk not even fifty paces down the beach, they spot driftwood.

More importantly, tangled up in the driftwood is a familiar flag that, once Pidge gets her hands on it, is obviously the one _she_ made— the counterfeit Galra flag she’d stitched together weeks ago. She inhales so sharply, Hunk thinks that she punctures her lung, and she nearly bowls him over as she dashes across the sand.

There's a few outcomes that Hunk can think of, and most aren't good. The others are too hopeful- too naive to be true. But he hopes anyway as he kicks his way through the sand to follow after Pidge, and Lance who was hot on her heels.

They slide down a dune, nearly sinking into it in their haste. Hunk has to tug Pidge out by her armpits in order to clear the pitfall, and she knocks her head against his in thanks before he drops her on her own two feet.

Down the way, a group of people— Shay’s people— drag a couple of bodies through the sand, towards the bushes.

Pidge yells, but it’s more to get their attention than to scare them off. They, of course, startle and nearly dart back in the woods, but they recognize the familiar trio and wave them down with excited hand motions.

Lance makes it to them first, just because Hunk and Pidge got caught on the sand dune, and he’s keeled over trying to catch his breath when Pidge bounds over. “Are they dead?” She asks, almost furiously.

Hunk makes up the tail end of their group, and he stalls more than he probably should at the question. When he makes it, though, he peers over Pidge’s head, and his heart leaps straight to his mouth.

Two crumpled forms were laid in the sand. They looked drowned and waterlogged, but their chests slowly rose and fell despite their appearances. The left, dressed in unfamiliar colors, sported a _very_ familiar prosthesis that was dangling by a half-broken leather strap from his waist. Shiro, surprisingly, looked a lot more peaceful when he was passed out than any other time Hunk had seen him.

And, on the other side, was Keith. He was sitting up, with the help of a firm hand on his back, but he looked very out of sorts. He was soaked to the bone, and he looked like he’d gotten into a fight with the sharp sea rocks at the bottom of the ocean. The salt must have been hell on his wounds, but he didn’t say a word.

The two islanders who were dragging their dead weight turned to look at each other. Then, they nodded, and called back to the bushes.

“We found three others. Come with us, before the Galra show up.” They whispered, and frankly— the pirates didn’t need to be told twice.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Most of their boat had been destroyed, they learn. It wasn’t from a battle— but instead from the sea itself. It had been an unforgiving journey, full of storms and gunfire, and it had been a series of close calls that Keith could barely even begin to explain how they’d gotten out alive.

“I thought we were dead when you three showed up. Thought I was hallucinating or something.” He’d laughed, wincing as the motion strained his cuts, and Hunk gave his hand a firm squeeze from where he sat beside him. With his free hand, he wiped away the worried tears that pooled at the corner of his eyes. He always was an emotional crier— even if he was ecstatic.  

It was a marvel, and a blessing, that their boat had stayed afloat when they tried to make their way out of the Galran waters. Shiro had snuck aboard an enemy ship and gotten more information than he could regale to his crew as they made their escape, but then they’d gotten caught in a gale and thrown for a loop.

“How did you find us so fast?” Keith asked, eyes drifting shut. He kept a hand over his abdomen, pressing against a wound there even though he didn’t have to. It had already been cleaned and bandaged, but it seemed he liked the pressure there. “This isn’t the island we agreed on.”

“You wouldn’t believe what luck we had. All of us.” Lance said, from his other side.

Keith and Shiro laid upon cots, covered in the thickest blankets that they could find. They weren’t critically injured— but exhausted and frozen. The only reason Keith was still awake was because of the adrenaline that was slowly seeping from his veins.

Keith and Lance shared a look, and Lance cracked a grin at him that had Keith fondly shaking his head as he slumped back against the slot. "Guess I can't argue with that."

"You really can't." Came the agreement from Pidge, where she sat at the foot of the bed. "But we're still glad you made it out of there, navigator. Good job."

"How's Shiro?" Keith asked, head lolling in the general direction of his captain.

"In one piece, just like I requested." Pidge said, climbing from Keith's cot to Shiro's. Her fingers found their way to the bindings of his prosthesis, and she undid the knots that kept it firmly in place, to let it rest.

"You should rest now." Hunk raked his fingers through Keith's bangs, moving the matted locks out of the way. He wondered if Keith would let him comb them out later. "We'll keep you safe."

At that, Keith only grunted. But he began to minutely relax as their soft chatter rocked him to sleep. Lance leaves him with a firm pat on the back, looking as exhausted as their injured crewmates, before he goes to join Pidge at Shiro's side.

Hunk stays sitting next to Keith, palms locked together. Shay had confirmed with them earlier that the Galra probably wouldn't be showing up anytime soon, as they'd just recently picked up their shipments. A tiny blessing, in Hunk's opinion. They needed all the rest they could get.

Speaking of Shay—

"He still breathes?" Came the question that might have had Hunk alarmed if he hadn't instantly gotten used to the different way Shay spoke.

"Breathes, kicks, and everything." Hunk said with a smile. "We sure were lucky that they landed here."

"Mm. The ocean has a bigger influence on us than we can even imagine." She agrees. "That's what grandmother says, sometimes."

Then, she reaches over with her hand and places it against Hunk's— the one that was joined with Keith's.

"You don't look sad anymore." She says, and Hunk ducks his head out of embarrassment. "I'm glad, too, that they landed here."

"You're too good to us, Shay." Came the soft muse as Hunk readjusted so that he could squeeze her hand in his grip, too. "You better be careful, or else we're gonna have to throw a party in your honor."

"Too late for that." Lance speaks up, from the other side of the cots. At the twin looks of confusion, he jerks his thumb across his shoulder. "Most of the rest of us have wandered out towards the beach for a little shindig. You know how us pirates are."

Pidge scoffs, even as she heads towards the exit, rolling a barrel of what Hunk assumes is alcohol along with her. "Too eager to have fun."

Hunk catches Shay's eye, and she shrugs her shoulders. "Be careful what you wish for?"

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Hunk, of course, takes Shay out to the party. _Technically_ , the party could be in her honor. Lord knows she probably deserved it.

Shay marvels at the crew as they pour mugs of ale and wine that stain their fingers red, spilling more than they drink across the white sand. She even drinks a tiny flask of her own, filled to the brim with something clear and strong.

She downs it without a blink, and Lance wolf-whistles. "What a keeper."

Shay flushes under the praise, and partly from the alcohol warming her chest.

It was hardly noon when they'd arrived on the island again, but the sun was quickly sinking in the sky. Hunk doubted that he would ever see the beach here in the early morning light, but he was sure it would look just as stunning then as it does now.

The sand was so light that it sparkled under the sun, almost like soft glass. Hunk couldn't resist kicking his boots off and digging his toes in it, warming them up in the process.

The trees and bushes offered a familiar sound as the wind filtered between the leaves, rustling them against one another. Even the water from here looked familiar, though he was forever away from home and, for a moment, if he tilted his head up just right and he closed his eyes, he almost felt like he _was_ home.

When he opened his eyes again, he spotted Lady just a ways down the shore. A few pirates were climbing up the rope and laughing at some joke that probably didn't deserve the tears of mirth in their eyes. He saw Lance chasing after Pidge as she tried to keep the barrel of ale all for herself, and he saw the way Shay egged them on with her cheering— that often was interrupted by a laugh of her own when Lance tossed a handful of sand at Pidge, and Pidge retaliated by shoving a seashell down his pants.

In a way, this _was_ his home, now that he thought about it. Even the two little things that were missing were now safe and sound inside.

Pidge yells as she faceplants in the sand, and Lance laughs so hard that he isn't prepared for the salty wave that flattens them both. Hunk brushes away the granules of sand that cling to the curves of his feet before he slips his boots back on.

He'd better join them before they drowned in three inches of water.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

The sun lowers in the sky again, and the world takes on an orange hue. The white sand looks brown, and Lady's white sails turn yellow under the sunlight.

By now, in the few hours that had passed, the pirates have tuckered themselves out. The impromptu party had morphed into something a bit more mellow as people paired off for a few private drinks.

After Hunk had saved them from the vicious inch of water, Pidge and Lance retreated on deck to show Shay the 'good bits' of their lovely vessel. All three were well on their way to being drunk, but Shay looked like she was having so much fun with the two that Hunk didn't want to talk them out of it.

Rax would probably be out sooner or later to scare them off with a lecture, anyway.

This, though, left Hunk all alone. He hardly knew what to do with himself as he followed the foamy surf that bubbled across the shore. Tiny grains of sand rubbed at his ankle from where he'd taken off his shoes earlier, but the soft touch of wind that caressed his face as he followed the horizon was enough to make him not want to stop and clear them out.

He tried not to stray too far out, just in case, but he let himself bask in the familiar and unfamiliar island. In his experience, they all were the same. (To be fair, though, this was only the third island he'd been on in his entire life.)

He was almost dreading when he had to board the boat again, and sail away from the solid ground. Maybe there was a way to hook the land to Lady and tug it along?

At _that_ ridiculous thought, he couldn't help but laugh. He'd been alone all of twenty minutes and he was already going mad.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Shiro grunted, barely suppressing the groan of pain as the last buckle was clicked into place across his back. When he flexed, though, his prosthesis moved as desired and he nodded his head back at Keith. "Thanks."

"Always." Keith promised, slowly ambling off the bed to stand by his side.

"How much trouble do you think they've gotten in since we've been knocked out?" Shiro joked, shoving his arms through his jacket. It was incredible that the thing had survived their trip. Even more incredible that all five of them— the crew that is— made it out alive and all together. Something he would have to remember to be thankful for, on top of everything else.

"The ocean is boiling over as we speak." Keith said, in such a deadpan that if it were anybody else but Shiro they would think he was serious.

They wandered out of the hidden base, just a bit slower than their usual pace. Keith's head throbbed every time he breathed too heavy, and Shiro's spine felt like it was tied in a knot at the very base, but neither complained. There was probably nothing they could do about it, anyway.

Instead, they made their way outside to find the rest of their crew.

Lady was, thankfully, in one piece when they spotted her down the way. She looked in good health, even. Shiro, if he squinted, saw even less barnacles than she'd had before they left.

"Should we board?" Shiro asked, and found Keith gazing down the coast.

"Mm. Yeah. Better see if Lance messed with my wheel again."

Last time he'd been down for the count, Lance had stained the wheel with berry juice and drawn a few crude drawings where he could fit them. He didn't expect for the juice to have stayed sticky, but to him it was an extra plus every time Keith had to peel his fingers from the handles.

However, when they begin the arduous climb up the ladder, an unfamiliar head poked up over the railing.

"Ah! You are awake!" She said, excitedly, and then she leaned back to wave over two _familiar_ figures. "They're awake!"

"Well, well, well." Lance said, and Shiro could tell by the way that the tips of his ears were red that he was drunk. "Look who decided to come back from the land of the dead."

A mane of brown hair appeared over his shoulder, and Pidge gave them a dopey grin. "Welcome back. How was the underworld?"

"I take offense to that." Shiro said, climbing the rest of the way and helping Keith up the final few rungs. "I'd imagine I would look better with wings and halo."

Lance waggled his brows. "And nothing else?"

Keith rolled his eyes as Shiro gathered up his lover and pressed a kiss against his forehead. "Only for you."

"Sap." Lance said, fondly. Pidge groaned, pulled into the hug as well only because she was clinging to Lance's back like a monkey. Just to antagonize her, Shiro leaned over to press a kiss against her forehead as well.

She let go, falling onto the deck with a painful 'thump'.

"How much did you two have to drink?"

"Not enough to act this drunk." Pidge laughed. Shay wandered over to pluck her up without a blink. "Oh! Boys, this is Shay." She said, gesturing vaguely in Shay's direction. "She helped us while you two were off soiling the seas and plundering villages."

Shay laughed instead of looking appalled, so Keith liked her already. "I know that isn't what you were actually doing. I'm pleased to meet you."

Lance led their growing group over to the stump of their jackstaff, pulling Shiro to sit first before he claimed his lap as his own perch.

Shay began to explain to them what Pidge, Lance, and Hunk had explained to her. Their quest; the rumors they'd heard, and how she and her people were on _their_ side and not the Galra's. She knew better than anyone how awful they were.

"We'd be willing to help in any way that we could." She said, with such conviction that they were all surprised she hadn't overthrown the Galra with one hand tied behind her back already.

It was at this moment that Hunk wandered back on board, pulling himself up the last rung of the ladder with a grunt.

"Hunky-boy! We were just talking about you." Lance called, waving him over.

"We weren't." Both Keith and Shay said at the same time, startling a laugh out of Hunk.

"I'd believe it if you were." He teased, plopping down to sit beside Pidge where she was nestled at Shiro's feet. "Are you all drunk?"

"Just the two." Shiro sighed, affectionately patting both of their heads. "But, Shay— you know Hunk?"

Shay clapped her hands together once, excitedly nodding her head. "Yes, we met nearly two weeks ago! He and I spoke for _hours_ on top of the highest hill, and he and I felt the stars beneath our fingertips." She gushed, a fondness settling in her eyes. "He and I are friends."

Hunk flushed briefly before he pulled Shay in a one-armed hug.

The two painted such a pretty picture that Keith felt his heart twinge. Hunk didn’t often smile that wide, despite how often he smiled, and he looked so _at home_ that Keith felt he was intruding on… a real family, or something. Lovers meant to be.

He wasn’t sure if it was jealousy that flooded his body, like a fire through a forest, or if it was some sort of resigned confirmation that clicked into place in his mind. Whatever the emotion, he turned away so sharply that his hair smacked against his face like the end of a whip.

The world continued on, oblivious to Keith and everything he felt.

“It’s amazing that you can trust us so easily, Shay.” Shiro confesses then, accepting a sip of whisky from Lance’s cup.

Shay sighed, glancing at the waters for a brief moment before she turned to look him back in the eyes. “Pirates have been kinder to me than the Galra have ever been.”

A silence washes over them. Shay fumbles with her words for a moment, and Shiro reaches over to press his hand against her shoulder.

“You’re welcome to come aboard my vessel, if you choose.”

"That's very kind of you!" She says, in a genuine way the pirates weren't used to anymore. "However, I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline."

She glances back to the island, hidden as it was behind the boat. "As much as I long for the freedom of the sea, I long for my people's freedom more."

Shiro's spine straightens, a strange look crossing his face that was more than familiar to those who'd spent most of their happy lives with him. His 'I greatly admire what you're saying and I'm going to do whatever I can to help you' face.

Lance is up before Shiro even asks, hopping to his cabin. He returns with a wax seal stamp and a wax stick to go along with it, handing it off to Shay. "Use this, then." He explains, words slurring only barely. "We aren't exactly a well-received bunch to the Galra, but we have plenty of other friends who would gladly send you some supplies."

"You could forge documents, if you wish." Shiro adds, and Shay holds it so tightly that it nearly shatters in her grip.

Shay and Shiro fall into a conversation, then, and Lance shakes his head with a fond sigh. "Looks like I'm not getting him back for the night."

Across the misshapen circle they sat in, Hunk helps Shay to stand as she, he, and Shiro laugh at a joke one of them made. Keith grunts in Lance's general direction, and a bitter taste washes over his tongue.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

The two of them, Hunk and Keith, truly _don't_ get to be with one another until well into the evening. The sky flickered from orange to nebulous black, flecked with white and rainbow constellations.

Keith throws a broken seashell into the water from the cliff he'd claimed as his own once the other's began their party all over again.

Hunk finds him, somehow, and plops down beside him without even asking. Keith's hand searches along the sand until he finds Hunk's, running his thumb across the smooth knuckles that waited for him there.

"Is everything alright?" He half-heard Hunk asking. "You aren't still hurt are you?"

"No."

Neither was sure which question he was answering, and Keith absolutely hated that. He hid his face against his knees as he pulled them towards his chest. He didn't want Hunk to see him pouting like a child over something that wasn't even Hunk's fault.

All he could think about was how happy Hunk had looked when he was laughing with Shay, and how it wasn't fair how he'd given up his entire life for... the mess that Keith had dragged him into. A mess that— frankly— _Keith_ didn't even want to be in.

"Well... I'm glad you made it home safe." Hunk says, tilting his head to regard Keith's hidden face. "I missed you."

And then, like the words burned him, Keith says, "I don't think you should stay aboard Lady any longer."

Hunk is so surprised at the words that he recoils back as if Keith had hit him. The silence rings around them, and Hunk clears his throat, squaring his shoulders before he speaks again. "Why?"

Keith wants to fall silent, maybe, but he doesn’t. “It would be better for you.” He says, struggling for the words. “You would be happier if you went back home.”

Hunk’s hurt look fades, and understanding flashes through his eyes. He grabs Keith’s hand, which is dwarfed pressed against his palm, and he warms up Keith’s fingertips as he takes a long pause to gather his bearings. Keith searches his face, but he doesn’t force an answer.

“What made you think of this?”

Keith opened his mouth, but he thought better of just saying ‘Shay’. That would be unfair to her. “I’ve thought about it for a while.” He confesses. “About how I stole you from your home. And I never really offered to take you back. I mean— we basically didn’t give you a choice in the matter.”

Hunk specifically remembered getting a choice in what felt like many chapters ago in his life, but he let Keith vent.

“It just doesn’t seem fair, is all.” Keith ends, straightening his legs out in front of him instead of having them guard his chest, which was strangely aching. He wasn’t sure if it was because he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs, or if it was because his heart was beating so fast.

Hunk hummed, running his fingertips across the dark leather gloves Keith wore. Despite being in and out of salty water for a lifetime, it was nice and soft in his hold. Hunk leaned closer and, when Keith didn’t jerk away, he pressed a kiss against his temple.

“I disagree.” He said, with some sort of finality about it that made Keith wheeze a laugh. Hunk smiled wide at him, and pressed another kiss against his face. “I appreciate the concern, but there’s nowhere I’d rather be than aboard Lady.”

Then, tugging an arm around Keith’s side to pull him close, “With you.” His other hand was still loosely gripped in Hunk’s, so Keith brought his free hand up to splay it across Hunk’s thigh.

“I don’t have anything to offer you.” He says, numb to the words he’s thought a million times. He misses the pensive frown Hunk gives him, but its washed away when Keith presses his cheek against the curve of Hunk’s shoulder. There’s a lot that Hunk wants to say and to explain, but he doesn’t think there are enough moments in the world for that.

“I don’t have anything to offer you, either.”

Keith _wants_ to yell at him for saying that, but the curved up brow on Hunk’s face instantly takes the wind from his sails, and he deflates again, an embarrassed and chagrined flush blooming across his face. Hunk squeezes him with the arm wrapped around Keith’s side.

Keith moves on. “I missed you.” _I love you_ , he says.

A warm feeling washes over him, and Hunk presses a kiss against the crown of Keith’s head. “I thought about you everyday.” _I love you, too_.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

They flee to the boat when the pirates start getting rowdy on the beach. For a life or death situation such as theirs, morale had never been higher. Keith had no idea how they’d pulled together such a jolly crew.

“You do know that I want to be here, right?” Hunk asks later, when they hide themselves in Keith’s room and cuddle up on the bed. His fingers rake through Keith’s hair, which is in desperate need of a cleaning. Sand dusts the bed, and Hunk can’t say he’s looking forward to the itchy night, but he wants to curl around Keith more than he wants clean sheets.

Keith keeps his eyes shut as if he didn’t hear Hunk, and only turns to look at him when Hunk is finished picking through his hair.

“It’s a surprise, but I’ll get used to it.” He kicks off his boots, flopping back onto the bed. It felt a hell of a lot better than the warped wood he’d had to sleep on for two weeks.

Hunk stays sitting up, untying the laces of his shoes very carefully. If Keith angles his head right, he can see the concentration swirling around his eyes. One of his cheeks is puffed out as he sucks in his belly to hold his leg closer to his body, and a toothy smile stretches Keith’s lips.

He presses his palm against the small of Hunk’s back, and Hunk lets his boot fall before he turns to regard Keith and his lovestruck expression.

“What?”

Hunk absently tucks a tuft of hair behind his ear that had escaped the hold of his headband. Now that Keith was looking close, it looked like he’d started the day with a ponytail and it had come loose as the day progressed. He looked windswept, sun-kissed, and absolutely perplexed as to why Keith was staring at him like he was the sky.

He kicked off his other shoe with much less care and climbed further onto the bed to lay beside Keith. Both were mostly still clothed and in for a sweaty night if they stayed that way, but were content in tangling their limbs just for a bit.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Keith professed. He felt selfish thinking it, but he was also glad that _he_ was there with Hunk, and able to furl around his presence as much as he liked.

Hunk graced him with a smile, wide and toothy. Keith kissed him, and they found one another’s hands somewhere in the middle.

 

\---

 

They’d just begun drifting off to sleep when Keith sits up in the bed again, startling Hunk awake.  

“Hey— What the hell happened to my desk?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not pictured: hunk giving keith a sponge bath because jesus christ is he a sandy boy
> 
> even tho i've had the chance to pause i still don't know if this fic is gonna end at 18 or 19 adshjldashjldas
> 
> we'll..... see what happens <3


	18. XVIII.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“A person does not grow from the ground like a vine or a tree, one is not part of a plot of land. Mankind has legs so it can wander.”_
> 
> _― Roman Payne, The Wanderess_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god its the last chapter
> 
> before you read it i just want to take a second to say that i really appreciate you making it this far in this little fic of mine <3 every hit, kudo, and comment i received warmed my heart and i just can't ever show my appreciation as much as i want to!
> 
> but enough of that sappiness!! time to finish this show

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Somewhere far across the ocean, past the deep, salty blue sits two ships; weary but strong. A hand reaches out to circle a part of a map, wisps of silver hair flitting from their tie to tickle the parchment.

Allura grins wide as she feels her heart fill with more excitement than it ever had. They’d gotten hold of a rumor that there was a ship— a ship other than _hers_ — that was joining the fight against the Galra. And she would find them no matter the cost.

Stars above knew they needed more allies. They’d barely survived the last battle, which is why there were hiding out in the middle of nowhere.

A messy mop of brown hair finds its way into her vision, and she tilts her head back.

“That map was expensive, I hope you know.” They tsk, just this side of playful.

Allura shrugs a shoulder, mumbling a half apology as she puts away her tools. “I’d have thought you’d be excited about this too, Matt.” She says, shooing him from atop her desk. He huffs, moving to stand beside her instead of on the wood, and peeks over her shoulder as she rolls up the map.

“I’ll be excited if I actually see them _prove_ themselves.”

Allura shakes her head. He was probably more interested in the rumor than _she_ was.

“Always the negative one.” Coran tuts from the doorway, balancing a tray in one hand. Matt waves him off, stepping out as Coran steps in.

“He’s antsy.” Allura explains without being asked. “ _I’m_ antsy.” She takes the offered tea cup and quickly inhales its calming aroma.

“I’m sure it will work out.” Coran says, waving his hand dismissively. “Anyone as foolish as us to go against the Galra must be just as strong, too.”

Allura stands, wandering to the other side of her office to look out the window. Not a porthole, but a bay window with a few books stacked in the corner. She places her tea atop it, and instead picks up a small portrait hidden behind the spines.

“It’ll be hard work—” She says, running a finger across the sand-dusted frame of Alfor. He smiled back at her, reassuring as always. “—Crossing so many seas, so many _jurisdictions_.” She interrupts herself with a scoff.

“Not to mention tracking them down.” Coran adds, thoughtfully.

It all would be extremely difficult. The ocean was as vast as the sky and just as full.

When Allura stands, the harpoon resting beside the window slides dangerously towards her toes. She catches it before she loses her foot and presses it back in its corner.

She’d arranged for their new friends to receive one just like it— with a blade smoother than silk— but she’d forgotten to send a letter with it by the time they’d had it shipped out.

She wondered if they ever got it, though.

When Allura turns to face Coran, she must have a certain look on her face because he smiles at her and readjusts his cuffs, half rolled up his forearm. “Shall I tell Matt to drop the sails?”

“If you would.” She grins back, teeth sharper than a bullet. “I’ll be aboard the Black Lion.”

Before she follows her Quartermaster out, she looks one last time at her father, left laying in the rays of sunlight that drifted through the window. She breathes in once, steeling herself, before she exits the room— coat sweeping through the air like the wings of a newly freed sparrow, eager to ride the wind of freedom.

They had work to do.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Keith wakes up first the next morning, to Hunk being bathed by soft light and illuminated dust. God, he needed to air his room sometime.

Keith’s heart leaps into his throat, though, when he stares at Hunk. In a good way. He ran his fingers across the curve of his jaw, pudgy but strong. Hunk hardly twitched, but Keith didn’t want to disturb his slumber by feeling him up while he slept.

He very carefully climbed over his lover, knees sinking into the mattress when he finds himself straddling Hunk’s thighs. He smiles to himself at the peaceful way Hunk breathed, slow and steady, and he lets himself pause there to feel his heart beating when he presses his palm against Hunk’s chest. It felt so warm.

Keith forces himself from sitting there the entire morning, just staring, and instead pulls himself completely off the bed. Once he stands, he’s distracted again as he runs his fingers across the ink that stained the desk. It would be a permanent fixture, no doubt, but one that he didn't really mind. It added character to the boring wood he'd fallen asleep and woken up to for years. Now he had something new to look at.

Keith glanced back to Hunk as he dressed, stepping into his pants one leg at a time. He really should bathe today, but that would have to wait. They would be setting sail that morning, and Hunk probably wanted to say goodbye to Shay.

As much as Keith had fussed last night about her— which, in all honesty, was no fussing at all— he really _did_ like her. She had wonderful character, and he wanted atleast a _good_ relationship with her.

When he was fully dressed, he reluctantly woke Hunk. He was drooling a wide stain into the lining of his pillowcase, and he'd curled up in the warm spot that Keith had vacated. When Keith tried to shake him awake, he batted away Keith's cold fingers.

Keith kissed him across the lips like he'd read in fairytale books and seen in street performances.

Hunk woke a blink later, and he blushed so brightly that the sun would've been jealous.

 

∾∾∾∾∾

 

Once everyone is awake and running about, and they've shared a goodbye with Shay and her people, with a promise to visit whenever they can, Shiro calls them all into his stateroom and sits them down to explain exactly what had happened to he and Keith on their little 'adventure'.

"We were ambushed, once. But by other pirates rather than the Galra." He begins. "Once we convinced them that we were spies, they pointed us in the direction of a _very_ helpful tavern."

"The Galra there couldn't hold their tongues if they were cut clean off." Keith scoffs.

"We sailed into a cove." Shiro continues, barely hiding the amused quirk of his lips at Keith's words. "From there, we split and I ended up sneaking aboard a Galra vessel."

He relays the tale of how he'd snuck aboard, embellished if only for Lance's amusement, but he kept his story mostly serious.

The Galra had spoken of a pair of ships with a peculiar name, Voltron.

"Said they were led by two master pirates." Shiro recalls, mostly to himself. He taps his chin, and his prosthesis makes a creaking sound from the sand that had made its home in the joints of his metal fingers. "Apparently 'ruthless and conniving' master pirates."

"How did you get back?" Lance interrupts, sitting on the edge of his seat. "Back to the dinghy."

Shiro grimaced, and Keith rolls his eyes. "I swam?"

"You _swam_."

"The boat had taken off by the time I'd gotten the information I needed." He confessed. "It was either that or get executed on their deck."

Lance looked pained by both of those options, and Hunk placed a grounding hand on his upper arm. Shiro shot him an apologetic look, and Lance knew that was probably the best he was going to get.

"It wasn't just for words I got shipped off." Shiro says. "I stole a few of their records and burned a room or two before I left, as well."

Pidge wolf-whistles, and Shiro digs out the records from his pockets. They were as waterlogged as he had been, but were legible enough for them to decipher later.

"What does this information mean for us, though?" Hunk cuts in, peeking over Pidge's shoulder to read the smeared ink.

Keith and Shiro share a look, and Keith nods his head at his Captain.

"We need to get on their good side— these 'master pirates'. If they're rebelling against the Galra, we're standing with them."

"And if we do find them, we'll be joining a war that's sure to rage for years." Keith speaks up, standing from his seat, to take the right of Shiro. "We need to make an announcement of this to the crew, but if any of you want to leave before this goes down..." Keith looks physically pained to say the words, and it was in between the lines that the rest of the group figured out that he and Shiro _must_ have argued about it for hours before they came to this conclusion.

"You're free to.” Shiro finished, calm. “We won't stop you, and we'll drop you off at the nearest city. The nearest _safe_ city."

Hunk meets Pidge's eyes first. She squares her shoulders, nodding just once at him before she turns to stare Shiro down. Lance looks at him next, shrugging one shoulder. His expression looks very relaxed for the situation at hand; complete with a lopsided smirk.

Hunk nods back at the two of them, and they turn to look at Shiro and Keith. The former looks fondly exasperated, and Keith rocks back on the heels of his boots, crossing his arms. "And you already know my answer."

Shiro relaxes, an oddly proud smile beaming back at them. He joins Keith in standing, and the rest follow. "I guess that's that, then."

"You guessed right." Lance teases. "There's no way I'm letting you do this all by yourself. So you can steal all the glory? No thank you!"

Hunk tousles Lance's hair with a laugh, and Pidge elbows him in the stomach from his other side.

"I'll be sure to tell the rest of the crew." Lance says, after he finishes wheezing. Shiro reaches over as Lance passes to squeeze his hand tight, and Lance tosses him a wink.

"We'll be leaving as soon as we're ready." Shiro orders, gesturing to Pidge.

"Aye, cap'n." She follows Lance out with a bold stride, eager to get started. There was a conviction to her that Hunk now knew was related to her missing family. With the Galra defeated— who knows? She may just find them, after all of those years. They could be just around the corner.

When Hunk ambles out after them, leaving Shiro with a firm handshake and a pat on the back, and Keith with a kiss that is hesitant in front of Shiro, Lance is already ordering the crew to begin tasks that had been put off with the Captain's and Navigator's absences.

Hunk's palms itch to do something productive, and he quickly picks up repair work. A few of the gunwales had been damaged in the past attacks, and— because they weren't exactly _urgent_ repairs, had been put off for a long time. Hunk was an expert at fixing little things like that, and quickly took it upon himself to hammer them right.

He's finished measuring out the length of wood he needs when Shiro and Keith finally exit the forecastle, parting ways at the door. Shiro retreats below deck, and Keith nearly trips over Hunk's supplies before he realizes he's there.

"You alright?" Hunk asks, stopping him with a quick touch to his arm. He couldn't reach much higher where he was, kneeling against the deck.

Keith nods his head, a touch distracted. He opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again.

Hunk pats the stool next to him, a seat he'd stolen from the mess hall but ultimately didn't feel like using. It came in handy now, as Keith plopped onto the pale wood.

"Just thinking of the future." Keith says. "I have a good feeling in my gut, and I don't know how I should feel about it."

"Sounds like you should feel _good_ about it." Hunk says, quick and confident. "I vaguely remember a handsome pirate once telling me that you learn to trust your gut, living a life at sea." Hunk sands the rounded piece of wood, holding it up against the boat to ensure it would fit properly before he slotted it in.

Keith looks taken aback, before he breathes a laugh and shakes his head. "A handsome one, huh?" He crosses his arms, mostly to hold them close than to look serious. "I don't remember you saying that to me before."

Hunk makes a strange noise that could rival a choking seagull, and Keith laughs outright at him, sliding from the stool and onto his knees beside Hunk. The latter struggles for words as nothing but a flustered, garble mess make their way past his lips.

He presses a kiss against his jaw, and Hunk gives up on the dialogue. He drops his supplies and wraps his arms around Keith fully, pulling him into a kiss that has them _both_ jelly at the knees.

Lance has to come by to pry them apart before they can start tearing each other's clothes off, and they share an equally embarrassed laugh before they retreat below to do it in the safety and _privacy_ of Keith's room.

There was something freeing about being in one another's presence after their short break. Keith felt like smiling every time he saw Hunk, and Hunk wanted to lift Keith up and twirl him around and around until they were dizzy.

Hunk runs his hands along the expanse of Keith's back, and Keith memorizes the lines of Hunk's skin in return.

Whatever the ocean throws at them, they silently promise one another with kisses and burning touches that they'll fight through it. One thing is certain, to the both of them.

They were glad that Keith stole him away, and even gladder that Hunk decided to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and.... that's it!!!
> 
> i'm not gonna lie, i feel like this chapter isnt as impactful as the last BUT it's still one that i greatly enjoyed writing and wraps it up very nicely! 
> 
> this took about mmMMM.... 6 months to write in total and it was absolutely worth every moment spent. i made a few new friends writing it and learned a lot about myself and my writing style along the way. c': i really appreciate you all taking the time out to read this and leave the feedback that you did! one or two comments may have changed the outcome of a few chapters, i'm not gonna lie!
> 
> special shoutout to [@blogginshield](http://archiveofourown.org/users/blogginshield/profile)!!!! (you know why <3) she kind of was my muse for half of this fic LMAO. *fingerguns* 
> 
> this fic has been my baby for quite a few months but now it's time to let it go c': i hope you all had as much fun as i did!!
> 
> thank you! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to contact me on [tumblr](https://jamthedingus.tumblr.com)!


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